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[Sören]

He scoffed at the offered suggestions, though which one earned the greatest derision was unclear. The answer was none of them, of course. Sören’s sluggish mind grasped for a moment at an explanation worthy of the telling, but the words all ran into feeling. He contemplated his glass instead. Poetry was preferable to bluntness, and he might have woven something elegant from the pieces of truth. At least if he’d had better control of his faculties than he did currently. He would not stoop to doing something so poorly, though.

“Good old fashioned betrayal,” he said eventually. A grim smirk thinned his lips, since such pains did not exist without the ingredient of trust, and Sören was usually better at the game. In fact he was stung twice over of late. Nimeda’s betrayal was less surprising, though the fact she had managed to rouse herself to the task had been unanticipated. Ephraim’s, in hindsight, should have been obvious. “And a moment of self-indulgence before I decide what is to be done about it.”