Veylara turned her head, looking at him with narrowed, sapphire eyes. A slow, tired smirk bloomed on her lips.
"If you have something to say," she murmured, her voice dropping into that private, dangerous tone, "say it closer."
Sol stopped at the base of the hearth platform, looking up at her with an easy, unbothered grin.
"Nothing to say," Sol replied, his crimson eyes gleaming with cold confidence. "Just making sure you remember who laid the bricks for that high seat."
Zephyra handed the steaming bowl of soup to Veylara with a soft, knowing chuckle. "Careful, Sol. She may be your woman in the dark, but in the light of the sun, she has three whole territories to bend to her will."
"And who handed her those territories?" Sol smirked, leaning against an ironwood pillar and crossing his arms, not bothered by her high status in the slightest.
