"Ahem."
Zephyra's dry, rattling cough tore through the hall like a sudden gust of winter wind. The High Shaman had her knuckles pressed against her mouth, her milky eyes politely fixed on the cedar ceiling beams, though the wide, wicked smirk cutting across her face was impossible to hide.
"Pardon an old woman's throat," Zephyra murmured with mock innocence, taking an exaggeratedly slow sip from her steaming bowl. "The morning air inside the lodge is rather... stifling."
A brilliant, burning crimson flared instantly along the elegant curve of Veylara's neck, rushing straight up to the tips of her ears.
The newly crowned sovereign of the Fifth Layer… the terrifying apex predator who had just brought thousands of warriors and elders to their knees in the dirt… stood frozen in front of the hearth, one hand unconsciously lifting to brush her lips where his mouth had just been.
