Chapter 867 Lingering Bell Chimes

• Outside Violette's residence, a man—arms knotted with muscle and pride—lifted his fist again, unwilling to settle for the single toll he had already wrung from the stone bell. At the sight of his raised knuckles, onlookers shuffled backward. Even one peal had rattled their ribs; another might split their ears. Boom. Before the crowd could clear, Marlon's fist slammed into the ancient bell a second time. A low, trembling hum gathered in its throat. The note never fully blossomed. A savage rebound of force hurled the brawler five or six paces through the air. He skidded across the flagstones, staggered, then halted—only to spit a bright fan of blood against the pale morning dust.
• "Your strength was barely enough for one ring," Rupert Rowlands said with a patient shake of the head. "Why push your luck?"
• He emerged from the residence in calm strides, the crisp folds of his cloak refusing even the faintest flutter.