Eleanor averted her gaze from him, feeling oppressed under his scrutinizing gaze. She had this feeling whenever she was near him. She had yet to accept the fact that she was his mate and was uneasy in the face of his intense gaze.
"I have no idea," she murmured.
"The witch has been killed," he said, out of nowhere.
"Oh!" She gazed up at him, eyes wide.
The abrupt change in subject stunned her. Eleanor was expecting to hear this news, yet her heart shook.
"I interrogated her before execution," Damien added solemnly, but with a deep sigh, as if he was worried about something. "I thought she was a battered, abandoned, poor witch. That was what she said, and I believed her. But I was not aware that she was a spy for Crotia. " He made up another story in the same dramatic way in which he was skilled.
Eleanor cringed at the name of Crotia, chills tightening her skin. "Spy for Crotia!" she exclaimed.
