The Bedni's lips twisted into a small, bitter smile, despite the blood trickling from her split lip. "No," she breathed, shaking her head slowly. "Find out for yourself. See how fragile that power you cling to truly is."
For a brief moment, Bedelia's confidence faltered. Something in the girl's tone, that quiet defiance, gnawed at her. But she quickly regained her composure, refusing to let the words settle. Turning sharply on her heel, Bedelia left the girl standing there, bleeding but defiant, and headed back to her chambers, her mind a swirl of irritation and unease.
Back in her private quarters, Bedelia's steps were deliberate, her thoughts simmering beneath the surface. Her eyes caught her reflection in the polished glass, and she frowned. The Bedni's words echoed in her mind, unsettled her in a way that she didn't like. She needed to reassert control, to remind herself—and others—of the power she held.
