Ansel, an old man who had survived more than a century, was as dangerous as he was cunning.
His schemes were like a weight pressing down on Lyra, and his immense psychic power added to the suffocating atmosphere in the room.
Lyra's spine stiffened for a moment under the pressure, but she quickly recovered, a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. "After nearly dying in our own house, I suppose it's only natural I'd keep a bodyguard close."
Ansel, leaning on his cane, chuckled softly, his tone that of a doting elder. "You were always a difficult child, Lyra."
To anyone else, his voice might have sounded warm, almost affectionate, but Lyra knew better. This was the same man who had once tricked her into drinking the Dispersal Agents, the poison that had scattered her powers and shattered her future.
Standing beside Ansel, Kail suddenly let go of Ansel's arm as if the contact had scalded him.
