Hearing her mother, Myria did not sit back down. Instead, she walked slowly down the crystal steps, her expression entirely unbothered.
"An alliance with Uranos would have been a dead weight, mother. He is a coward wearing parade armor. The moment a real threat appeared at our borders, he would have fled and left our vanguards to die. I will not tie the Dark-Moon Empire to such a pathetic weakling."
Her mother sighed, stepping closer to her daughter.
"Perhaps that is true. But what worries me far more than the Prince's bruised ego is what you said to him right before he left."
Myria stopped moving. Her icy eyes narrowed a little.
Her mother, Machina Noctivale, continued:
"You told him you belong to another person. Myria, you are the Empress. You belong to this Empire and its people. You have spent your entire life bleeding to conquer these sectors and take the throne from Helion. Who is this man? What kind of warlord has completely warped your mind like this?"
