““That’s what Hringkälla celebrates,” continued Brum. “And every year if there are worthy initiates, the drüskelle gather at the sacred ash, where they may once more hear the Voice of God.” Djel says you’re a fanatic, drunk on your own power. Come back next year. “People forget this is a holy night,” Brum muttered. “They come to the palace to drink and dance and fornicate.” Nina had to bite her tongue. Given Brum’s interest in the dip of her neckline, she doubted his thoughts were particularly holy. “Are those things so very bad?” she asked teasingly. Brum smiled and squeezed her arm. “Not in moderation.” “Moderation isn’t one of my specialties.” “I can see that,” he said. “I like the look of a woman who enjoys herself.” I’d enjoy choking you slowly, she thought as she ran her fingers over his arm.””
