Veer just stood there, jaw tight, torn between frustration and disbelief.
Meanwhile, the physician stared at the scene in horror and confusion, his hands twitching by his side. Soldier? Dier? Houses? Training? None of it made sense—but the way Kaya's cheeks flushed and her words tangled told him enough. The smell clinging to her confirmed it.
"Damn it…" the old man muttered under his breath. "She's drunk. Not just drunk—fermented herbs drunk."
Veer took a slow breath and stepped closer. "Kaya—sweetheart, baby—please calm down," he said, voice soft, trying to reach her.
Kaya's eyes snapped up. In one quick, drunken motion she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his face up so their eyes met. Her voice was low and dangerous, all slurred venom.
"What did you just say, soldier? Huh? You bastard. Who's your 'sweetheart,' huh? Say that one more time and I'll kill you."
