Vix slumped in her chair, staring listlessly ahead. At the head of the table, Melina was going through the plan with the aid of a Conjurer. The little device projected squiggling diagrams and wavering pictures as she spoke, the wavering images of light hanging in the air for several seconds before cycling to something else.
Vix hardly saw or heard a thing. Her thoughts were stuck back in the hallway. Caine’s metallic arm blocked out everything else, as though the memory of it were plastered in front of her eyes.
What a monstrous thing he had done to himself. And he had told her nothing about it. Vix felt her gaze pulled in Caine’s direction. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him, his eyes darting toward her periodically, trying to catch her attention.