The freshly procured glass of champagne wouldn't be enough to dull her razor sharp edges of hurt and frustration poking through her emotions at every which angle. It would take several glasses, if not the bottle, to allow for this conversation with Ezra to be manageable. And yet, Rosalie barely stopped the roll of her eyes as she took her first sip.

But then he was commenting on the dead minister — the one who'd been eaten by dragons — and Rosalie's blood went cold. The blood -

She drained her glass then, foregoing any sense of decorum as she put the empty glass down and reached for a second. "If there's nothing else, Mr. Honeyapple?"

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