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Summary
“My tribe sent for me while I was here.” Her voice vibrated with barely-suppressed fury. “I don’t know if the Mystel work the same as Miqo’te on the Source, but apparently they have a new breeding male in place who’s oh-so-eager to bring all his ‘mates’ into line.” Her hand clenched tighter on the paper in her hand, tail lashing behind her, and the Exarch winced. “This… arrogant bastard thinks he can just demand I return for him to… to…” The paper in her hand burst into sudden flame, and the Warrior swore, loosing it from her grasp as she wrestled her aether back under control.
