Neris had expected Azarion's message, but expectation did nothing to temper the irritation that crawled beneath his skin. Of course the Lord of Emberhold would find a way to intrude on his peace—if peace was something Neris had ever truly possessed.
His cursed daughter married to Valerian Stormborne, now crowned queen of Virelia… and now he wanted to marry the other one off to him. Convenient. Predictable. Infuriating.
And yet, Neris could not place all the blame on Azarion.
He shared in it—after all, he had consented to the arrangement in Caelmont, agreed before the great council of caelmont under Elyria Venn the oracle herself.
It was a political necessity at the time, a move to ensure he did not end up bound to Lady Aurelia.
