Ezra followed the Arbiter through the deserted streets, her silent footsteps guiding him to a secluded bench under a canopy of trees. The night enveloped them, the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness.
She sat and gestured to the other end of the bench. Ezra sat, watching her carefully. With a graceful movement, she pulled a bottle of blood wine out of thin air and two elegant glasses.
Ezra startled, his eyes widening. Shit. She's at least fifth ring.
The deep crimson liquid glistened as she poured, handing Ezra one of the glasses. Ezra waited for her to ask what he heard or even just kill him but it never came. If it ever came to that, he knew he won't just take it. He'd go out swinging. His hands tightened around the glass.
She took a sip from her glass, her gaze steady on him. "What did you think of my judgment in your case, Ezra? That was your first time, wasn't it?"
