Despite the pain, Galaad didn't flinch. His expression remained stoic, his eyes locked with Damaris's.
Surprised by his resilience, Damaris narrowed her eyes. Then, just as suddenly as her anger had risen, she calmed. The heat in the room gradually diminished, the oppressive atmosphere evaporating as if it had never existed. Her hair, previously animated with a life of its own, gently subsided, cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of silver.
Damaris then sat back down in her chair, crossing her legs and adopting a relaxed posture, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "Fine," she said in a soft voice, tinged with barely veiled threat. "You may continue, Galaad. Before I change my mind."
