"Revolution called if she is crowned," Alastor and I cry in unison, sharing a pleased look across the table.
"Exactly," Valerian cuts in, giving us both a light but congratulatory pat on the back. "See now you are getting the hang of all this prophecy business!" he remarks with a chuckle, nudging us both light-heartedly with an amiable, as though he didn't just meet Alastor for the first time today. However, I do not fail to notice how his hand lingers against my skin for a moment, as though disdaining to withdraw it. Alastor doesn't fail to notice either, his eyes becoming slits as they linger on the motion of Valerian's hand wavering over my own.
Just because Valerian saved my life, that does not give Alastor any reason to trust him. Not yet.
Not that Valerian particularly seems to care- or the other demons for that matter.
