"If I wanted your opinion, I would ask for it," Cyrus said, attempting to intimidate Rajani with height he didn't particularly have over her. She was steadfast and firm, an elegant cut of stone in the face of the usurper. She would have made a good wife for his eldest son if she didn't have such a mouth and attitude on her. "But, it matters not. Last I checked, my war room is not a place for the fairer beast, especially uninvited."

Rajani's nose wrinkled, a snarl on her lips as she opened them to speak, only to be silenced when two of his sons stood straight from the walls. After smartly assessing her situation, she left the place she once called temple without another word. Her head was high. Her gait was effortless. She didn't give Cyrus the satisfaction of a tucked tail and lowered gaze. She never would.

"Rostam, boy, give me a report on the hunters," he commanded, waving a hand at his son to summon him like the good dog he was. He sank into his chair- his throne- and propped his feet up on an old ceremonial table. Were it not such a good footrest, he might have shattered it in order to procure the priceless gems from its surface. "If we are to secure the obsidian cavern from Granite Pass, we will need a small militia of versatile men. Those plant-whiffers are comfortable with the high ground, so I'm thinking-"

Footsteps caught his ear, his gaze turning to the drawn curtains that once hid the doorway. More grovelers? More chest-puffers? His patience was thin.

"Approach and speak, I haven't got all day," he growled.