Whispers
She thought she still heard Rhapthorne muttering in the back of her mind, threats and plots, old grudges, promises of power.
During the day, she could ignore the voice, drown it out with the voices of her friends. In the evening, when it seemed to lend strange shapes to the shadows cast by the fire, she could blame it on an overly active imagination and remind herself the scepter now possessed someone else.
In her dreams, she had no such defenses.
She woke to a hand on her shoulder, Angelo's worried gaze...and the phantom touch of lips on her cheek.
Written for 101 Kisses. Theme #74 - Voice
