But Veylara was obviously not satisfied with just these petty offerings.
"You sat behind your palisades when the enemies were constantly attacking our borders," Veylara murmured, her sapphire eyes tracking the trembling silhouettes below.
"You closed their trading posts. Your elders prayed for the Veynar to be butchered so you could pick over the bones of our storehouses. You sent scouts to watch the slaughter from the ridges."
Her lips curved into that cold, razor-thin smile. Even though it wasn't her but Sol who noticed and killed those scouts, it didn't stop her from threatening them using that information, after all their relationship had reached a depth that couldn't be deeper.
"Did you truly think I would not notice your little rats sniffing around my perimeter?" She continued.
The words fell like mountains weighing onto their bowed necks. A wave of burning, suffocating embarrassment washed over the entire delegation, swiftly swallowed by cold, unadulterated terror.
