Dravon stared at him for a long second. He hated that Belarus could be a lot of things and still come off confusing. The pain at his side has intensified; it currently pulls at his ribs in an attempt to rip him apart.
"What do you mean by that?" He asked the serious-looking Belarus.
"Athea Lyselle."
Dravon's eyes shot out at the mention of her name. Hearing someone call the name that had felt personal was off-putting. He tried to quell the raging anger within. Belarus had only been a merchant whom Athea patronized a few times. And between the two of them, he knew her better; heck, he has held her close. Too close, even.
He heaved a long and heavy sigh. "What about my wife?"
My wife.
The words fell so smoothly that one would presume Dravon had the most normal marital relationship with his wife. Yet, it was all just him wanting to be specific with the narrative that Athea was his.
