Like a snake the Itishi struck, without warning.
In one single fluid movement he swept the knife off the table, grabbed his collar and pressed the blade hard against his throat.
”I could slit your throat with a flick of my wrist,” he hissed, and for an ice-cold moment Corrin wondered if his gifts had let him down at last. Forcing himself to trust in his instincts, he let out a silent breath.
”And yet you aren’t,” he pointed out, calmly, holding that black stare without flinching. The most minute tremor passed through the hand holding the knife, a brief flicker of uncertainty. Continue reading “In The Balance”