Lysandra peered at her sister with profound suspicion, her delicate features pinched. She had always been the conscience of the trio, and the talk of vanishing envoys sat in her stomach wrong.
"As long as it remains just a thought," Lysandra murmured, her voice a plea for civility.
"This is not Romelia," Jasmine answered, her tone flat and reassuring "And I have no desire to be the first sovereign in the history of the South to shatter the sanctity of the envoy. My rule is already a labyrinth of taboos given who I have in bed; I'd prefer not to add state-sanctioned murder to the architecture."
Besides, the Kakunians were guests. While guest-right had a sunset clause, butchering them the moment they cleared the city gates would be a stain no amount of rain could wash away. It wasn't just about morality; it was about the optics of power.
"Speaking of taboos," Lysandra asked, leaning in, "do we know anything yet? Anything at all?"
