The tension between Dashiell and me was palpable as we walked into the main hall. His clenched jaw and barely contained rage radiated from him like heat from a furnace.
"I don't know what game you're playing, Knight, but you don't belong here," Dashiell hissed through gritted teeth, maintaining his public smile.
"Yet here I am," I replied calmly, "by Michael's personal invitation."
His face reddened. "Do you have any idea who I am? The Blackthorne family—"
"Has seven hundred and thirty-six precious herb specimens, including three over two thousand years old," I finished for him.
Dashiell stopped abruptly, his composure cracking. "How could you possibly know that?"
I merely smiled, enjoying his discomfort. Sometimes knowledge was the most powerful weapon of all.
