Maia and Pear snapped their heads toward the source of the sound.
A young woman in an outrageously elaborate, ruffled gown was fanning herself behind them. She looked in the direction the Son of Wai-hee left.
"If it weren't for his father being a renowned general, he would have long been executed in a decrepit alley."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The three women looked at her, confused. They didn't recognize her.
She snapped her elegant fan shut with a sharp clack, finally tearing her gaze away from the fleeing coward to look down at the three of them. Her eyes lingered on the desiccated remnants of the vines still growing out of the chair.
"Still, to be able to use such a non-standard spell art, you must be a talented dryad."
She turned to gaze into Flora's eyes, cold and emotionless.
"F-Flora is... a unique... dryad."
Faced with such an intense look, Flora shrank under the table.
