Is this supposed to impress me? he thought, his gaze cutting her down as if she were no more than smoke. I am not a man swayed by flesh, nor a lord who bows to ambition dressed as loyalty. Beauty rots. Power fades. But heart and truth, those endure. And she has neither.
His face stayed carved in stone, betraying nothing of the disdain in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat and cold, making the hall fall silent.
"Your presence is noted," he said, dismissing her with nothing more than a flick of his gaze. "You may leave."
The demoness faltered, clearly unused to rejection, and the whispers around her sharpened with ridicule.
