"Fine. Adequate compensation will be delivered to the Wargrave estate within a day," Cindralis conceded at last, her tone flat, her expression still as apathetic as ever.
"There is no need," Azeron replied smoothly. "Zarek will arrive to collect it himself."
"You mean your weird butler?" she asked, a trace of curiosity threading her otherwise neutral voice.
For a fleeting instant, Azeron's eyes glimmered with coldness, sharp as the edge of Ender itself, before the chill vanished, replaced once more by that stoic calm. He did not dignify her question with an answer.
"If the compensation is lacking, if it is anything less than what we deem appropriate, I will not take a step back next time," Azeron intoned. His golden eyes shifted toward Malrik, pausing briefly before offering his son a small nod of acknowledgment.
