The silver dagger in Siger's hand flashed in the faint torchlight a split second before the blade stopped right at your throat. He didn't even blink, sniffling with quiet, cynical amusement as he recognised your face.
"Depending on whom you ask, this is either your unluckiest day or my biggest mistake,"
he muttered in a low, cold voice, not withdrawing the weapon even a millimetre.
"What is a girl from your house doing in my manor before the nights have even had a chance to darken?"
He looks you straight in the eye with a challenge, and in his steely gaze a dangerous, reluctant curiosity appears for the first time. He does not lower the blade.