Chapter 61: The Talk of the Tower (4)
“Here. Eat.”
Feryn handed over the freshly made bead, warm and moist.
Her expression brimmed with such confidence that if I hadn’t personally witnessed the manufacturing process, I might have expected a divine delicacy and swallowed it whole without hesitation.
I hesitated, recalling the last bead I had ingested. What exactly was that liquid coating its surface, dripping in slow, sticky trails?
I wasn’t one to care about masochistic rewards, but I sent up a desperate prayer. Please, let it be saliva. Anything beyond that would be too hardcore.
Then I remembered that this wasn’t the time to worry about such things.
“Feryn, are you okay?”
“Why?”
“You know, that bead. Is it really safe to keep infinitely producing them like that?”
Contrary to my concern, Feryn remained completely unfazed. Her expression all but said, What’s with the fuss?—as if she were magnanimously choosing to let it slide.
Damn. How irritating. If worrying cost me, I’d be bankrupt by now.