He has no right to anger, and even so it smolders. Has she so quickly traded the steppe for silks and luxury? And the flowers in her furs— who are they meant for? Are they her doing? Does she wish to be so beautiful that the Son of Heaven would hasten his steps toward her chamber?
An ugly taste. Though this is not the time for it; not on the gathering word of the Empress. His eye softens on approach. Batu bows low in reverence before taking his place at her flank, silent and watchful as steel.
Saikhanbayar is looking away.
