"The Azarion I know would never agree to annul the engagement," Neris said, his voice low but firm, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade. "He clings to oaths like a dragon to its hoard."
Lady Morwenna Winterbourne, seated in her velvet chair, scoffed softly, lifting her goblet with a hand adorned in rings of sapphire and bone. "You're right. He refused."
Neris turned his head sharply. "What?"
She smiled coldly. "The envoys I sent to Emberhold returned just yesterday. Azarion not only refused ..... he threatened war if we did not honor the agreement."
Neris's lips parted slightly in disbelief. "He would risk war over this?"
"Of course he would," she sneered, setting her goblet down with a gentle clink.
"I never liked that man," she continued, voice tightening like the pull of a bowstring. "
"That man has always been dangerous. He walks on the edge of a blade and smiles at the drop.
