Heena turned to look at the trembling scholars, her red lips curving into a dazzling, sociopathic smile.
"Oh my, why do you guys look so pale?" Heena taunted cheerfully. "It's my wedding, not your funeral. Come on guys, drink!"
The Prime Minister's eyes narrowed dangerously, the benevolent mask finally cracking. "My lady should control her words. After all, you are still a young noble lady, and I do not think you should speak to your elders like this."
"Come on, my Lord, why are you getting so angry?" Heena tilted her head innocently, playing the fool to absolute perfection. "Isn't this just how we generals talk?" She looked back at her heavily armed uncles and lieutenants. "Am I saying anything wrong?"
"Not at all!" Kael grunted, crossing his arms and glaring at the scholars. "We talk exactly like this."
Heena turned back to the Prime Minister, her dark eyes completely flat and devoid of warmth. "See? In our culture, talking about death is actually a celebrated thing."
