“Have a taste?” came the sweet voice, tinkling through the air.
She stopped. Paused. Turned. A small outstretched hand holding a goblet filled with a liquid, its sweet perfume reaching her, soothing the fiery demon that had just filled her a moment ago.
Breathe, she told herself. Deep breaths. Slow breaths.
She raised her eyes toward the owner of the outstretched hand. “Thank you,” she said evenly. She took the goblet. And no one noticed the fiery demon that was quieted — for the moment.
— The Demon of Nachtwethe, p. 43