Icehart pointed at Betty as he yelled.
"They were meant to be controlled. Now we've lost the artifact and it's your fault."
Betty laughed, her laughter like bells in a burning cathedral. "Mine? You were the one who couldn't even hold onto two half-dead girls. You blame me for your failure?"
Flames surged behind her like wings.
"Oh but you're right, I let them go because I'm setting the bait for someone else," she continued, voice lower now, nearly a whisper. "Someone more important than your little tantrums."
Icehart narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
She smiled, and for a moment, the fire behind her flickered like a halo of divine judgment.
"The swordswoman," she whispered. "The one your ice could never touch."
Icehart stares and spoke no more. Her words had struck a nerve.
He struck first.
A blur of pale frost, his blade aimed straight for Betty's throat.
She tilted her head, just enough.
