Silviradrith let out a soft, huffed laugh and pushed himself off the wall with fluid grace.
"Careful, Cressid," Silviradrith interjected, his voice a smooth, melodic chime. "If you actually managed to lure our dear Winter Witch into a dance, I would spend the entire night making sure Grigori doesn’t start measuring the floorboards for your final arrangements. I would prefer a quiet evening without the sound of 'heightened crescendos' echoing through the inn."
He offered Aiwin a playful, mock-deferential bow, his eyes bright with amusement.
"Besides," he added lightly, straightening, "if the rumors in that letter are even half true, the village we are headed toward already has enough strange births and missing men. I would hate for us to arrive only to discover we had contributed to the problem."