The Palace Quarter Burns

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“Let me speak first,” Arabella said abruptly, her voice softer than the swish of her gown.
I slowed, glancing back. “Why?”
“Because I can soothe them,” she said, lifting her chin, though her fingers gave her away as they clutched her skirts too tightly.
“They think of me as above… all of this.” Her gaze met mine, guilt, or fear, or something more elusive. “If you go in and take charge, they will smell blood.”
Wren snorted. “Or maybe they will smell lies.”.....
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