"Quite the long list," Alpheo muttered, snapping the petition closed and sliding it aside with a flick of his wrist. His eyes cut sidelong toward Jasmine, but she gave him nothing to muse on.
"I suppose it would be," she replied at last after a lng silence, voice smooth, unruffled. That composure, however, far more than any outburst, needled him.
Alpheo leaned back, draping himself in his chair as though he were in a tavern, not a hall of state. His boot rose, resting lazily on his knee. He rubbed the back of his neck as if considering something trivial, though his gaze stayed locked on her.
"I half-expected you to be aflame by now," he said, smirking. "I'd almost prefer it. Easier to face fire than ice."
"Grandfather and I spent no small effort trying to sway you," Jasmine answered, steady as stone. "We failed. Now we endure. What use is fury when the course is already set? Was it not you who had said that long ago?."
