A Chill in the Flame (Villains #1)

Twenty-four

Twenty-four

Murder is both art and science.

Of course, one must consider the technicalities of homicide—the who, what, when, where, and how required diligence, patience, and intelligence. The “why” was a given, at least for Ophir. The men at Lord Berinth’s had worn masks that night, but she’d seen the angles of their jaws, the colors of their irises, the wicked curves of their mouths, the bodies and clothes of the men who had stood in the room while Caris was bound, stripped, humiliated, and gutted like a pig.

Killing is easy.

Vengeance is hard.

To properly avenge someone, the killer would let the target know why they no longer deserved the air they breathed. A certain understanding by the dying was required for justice to be satisfied. Poison is too slow, too impersonal. She thought of beheadings as a royal cliché but liked the stage and audience that a guillotine demanded. The same could be said of many popular modes of execution. She found herself with an abundance of choices on the matter of murder.

Retribution required fear, knowledge, and poetry.

Every man needed to understand why he was hunted. The comprehension in their eyes would be an essential component. She wanted to witness the twinkle of justice before their life was extinguished with the slow smothering of a cap over flame. The artistry of the act…well, that was where true brilliance was required.

Ophir would be an artist.