I had to admit, she was good. Really good. The trembling victim routine, the way she defended me even after I'd supposedly attacked her, the implied confession that she'd somehow provoked the whole thing—it was masterfully done.
I calmly scanned the crowd of onlookers, and I wasn't surprised to see that Thessaly's little performance was working like a charm. Especially on the men, who were getting an eyeful of a soaked woman in an almost see-through dress with wet hair clinging to her face and shoulders. The damsel in distress act was as old as time, but it still worked.
More than one guest turned to aim disapproving scowls in my direction. Some of the women looked scandalized, whispering behind their hands about my apparent lack of remorse. A few of the men looked like they wanted
