Duskfire Glacier Arvīge

“It doesn’t surprise me that a woman is subdued in your court. By your— valet.” A glorified henchman? She didn’t care about the shadow’s expectation. He was an accessory. Oh— was he not aware? Ayovi smirks and presses forward.
Her eyes hold tight to Faust, watching him stalk, and goad, and tyrannize. He was made for this, even she could not deny it. A chieftain’s supremacy rode every word. She is never more aware of her pregnancy than when the baskaan’s gaze sculpts her belly.
“Is this a formal abdication then, of any such wolf on Nova? Have we permission to obliterate all who wear the glacier's scent?" Faust must know. It was surely a jest to Ayovi, for a woman with so similar a look as came to provoke the men of the mountain.