Do not get involved in primitive political marriages. It has nothing to do with you.
But… despite the flawless logic of his mind, Sol couldn't help feeling a profound, visceral spike of displeasure, his gaze involuntarily turned into a glare.
It was that same cold, deep-seated territorial instinct flaring up again. Kira wasn't just some random tribal princess to him. She was the one who had guided him through the battlefield. She was the one who had washed the acid from his back. She was a fixture of his environment.
And this rotting, oil-eyed corpse was trying to step into his claimed territory and snatch something that Sol, on a purely primal level, considered under his own metaphysical umbrella.
Before Sol could physically step out of the shadows or utter a single word, Kira herself moved.
