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Then everything went dark.
Victoria screamed, then fell to the ground, clutching her face. Glorian, knocked to his rump on the floor, stared in disbelief at the naked woman hanging limp in her bonds. The tiefling leapt to her feet, placing a hand on a dagger at her side and positioning herself between Maeve and the unconscious captive. Across the table, the burly man next to Vinselius did the same.
For a short moment, the only sounds were Victoria's painful moans. The only smell was that of singed hair, of burnt flesh.
Vinselius set his fork down with a soft clink.
"I retract my earlier compliment, Indigo," he said. "You have terrible taste in slaves."
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