Snippet #1120357

"You've been made too much of a Seygan, chasing away compliments. Truth is true, believe it or not, and it's getting you nowhere denying it." Phaileru saw her combating a smile, but something was making her break. He did notice a distinct aroma in the air, which tied together, quite beautifully, the colors and the atmosphere. Was it Quince? He wouldn't claim to know.

"Funny, that I think I might give up titles and banquets if I could have something like this." The Az Ndaliq stooped down towards a particularly charming mass of flowers, whose tall stone vase was completely hidden behind the blossoms. "Not the water, or the flowers, or the trees, or the peace. Perhaps.... perhaps the grass. It's soft as moss, so perfectly manicured. I think to have grass like this I might die happy, I'd think someone who had such beauty would be a lucky man."

Admittedly, Phaileru was staring at Crisiana throughout his monologue.

Khadra tried to fight back the urge to spit. A worthless Andak wasn't owed a single tear, let alone a roomful. Ironically, her attempts to hold back her seething anger seemed like a weak woman holding back hysteria, a fellow servant turned to her, reassuring her.

Reassuring her that, like so many times before, a power hungry leader would replace a power hungry leader, and her people could return to slavery along with so many other peoples of the world, and everyone could bow and wail and be delightfully numb. Drugged by the idea that someone powerful was protecting them.

These people gave up their freedom for safety, and that made them weak. They hadn't even been born into slavery, and they chose peace over something so valuable. Obviously no one here was worth that seat. Khadra bowed her head, letting her unplanned disguise remain.