My kind? The words stung, not because they were untrue, but because they were far too close to the truth for comfort.
"And what kind is that?" I asked lightly, though the edge in my voice betrayed my rising irritation.
"Opportunists," she spat, her disdain palpable. "Those who will say or do anything to achieve their goals. I've met countless mortals and fae alike who play the same tired game you're attempting now. They dress their ambitions in noble rhetoric, masking their true intentions behind carefully constructed facades."
"I—" I began, but she cut me off with a raised hand.
"Let me finish," she snapped, her voice cold and commanding. "Do you know what I despise most about creatures like you?
"It's not your ambition or even your cunning. It's your complete lack of a moral foundation. You mold your principles to fit whatever situation benefits you most, discarding them the moment they become inconvenient."
