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She will not disobey again. Ollistra has made sure of that. Will make sure of it. Will make Veklin feel the pain this misstep has cost her, in her knees and neck.
Her gaze is lowered now, tracking the movements of her own boots, keeping to Ollistra's shadow. Knuckles white, gripping her staser like a lifeline, like her lives depended on it.
She briefly wonders if she pushed too far. If her cold, cutting reprimands won't heal this time. If Veklin will run instead of crawling back to her.
She dismisses the thought in a microspan.
Veklin won't leave. Her loyalty ran too deep, leash pulled too tight. She needs Ollistra, and Ollistra needs her. Who else has served her with the same burning determination? Who else can she shape and reshape into the perfect weapon?
Besides, she has no one else to run to.
Ollistra made sure of that.