Mistress Katha ✮

The door opened to a woman in a charcoal dress, no jewelry but for a single silver key on a chain around her neck. She was not young, not old. Her hair was the color of ink spilled on oak. Her eyes held the flat, patient stillness of a snake in tall grass.

“You want information about Julian Cross.” mistress katha

“You don’t,” she said. “Fear is for amateurs. You want him to forget you exist. Then, when he is most comfortable, you become the reason his hand trembles when he reaches for his morning coffee. You do not attack the castle. You poison the well he drinks from every day without knowing it’s there.” The door opened to a woman in a

Not hurt . Not expose . Destroy.