Felicia didn't answer right away.
Her expression didn't shift, but something behind her eyes stilled, like a ripple freezing over in the wake of a thrown stone.
I stepped closer to the rune line.
"I didn't come here for your war stories," I said, voice low. "Not for your madness, or your jealousy, or even your grief. I came for Elliot."
Felicia's smile faded at last.
"What did you do to him?"
The chains creaked as she leaned back, but her eyes never left mine. For a breath, she was quiet. Contained. Then—
"When did he start speaking?" She asked.
I blinked. "What?"
She looked at me, unfazed. "Take a guess of the time he began to speak?"
I was tongue tied for a minute, my mind wafting through facts. By six months, children begin babbling, twelve months they say their first words, most of the time being either mama or dada. And judging by how quietly assertive Elliot was, it was possible that his first word was before the twelve months.
