Verania's gaze didn't soften. "We'll see, Velka," she replied, her voice like ice. "We'll see what happens when you get too close."
The words hung in the air like a guillotine's blade, suspended and ominous. Velka, ever composed, met the Queen's gaze with a stoicism that bordered on defiance. But beneath her calm exterior, a flicker of unease betrayed her.
Riven, lounging nearby with the grace of a cat who'd just knocked over a priceless vase, couldn't suppress a grin. He leaned toward Aria, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Ah, the royal frostbite. Classic Verania. She's about to unleash the full 'Queen of Thorns' routine."
Aria elbowed him, but a smirk tugged at her lips.
Verania stepped closer to Velka, her presence commanding. "You may think your intentions are noble, Velka Nightthorn, but proximity to my daughter is a privilege, not a right. I suggest you tread carefully."
Velka inclined her head slightly. "Understood, Your Majesty."
