"Building homes for my husband's citizens," Seraphiel cut in. Her smile was gentle. Her tone was not. "On my husband's land. Using trees from my husband's forest."
The elves went quiet.
"I love these trees as much as you do. Possibly more." She glanced at the stump. "But we can plant new ones. We cannot conjure shelter from thin air. The dwarves know what they're doing and are listening to Jasmine's instructions. Let them work. Even Lady Luminara would approve."
The elven women exchanged looks. "How can you say such a thing with so much certainty?"
Seraphiel tilted her head and did not answer. "Unless you'd like to explain to Quinlan why construction is halted because you were arguing with the people doing the actual labor…"
They shuddered at the idea.
Scoffed.
Pouted.
Stomped the ground.
Then, they turned around and moved.
Seraphiel watched them go, then glanced at the dwarf crew. The lead dwarf gave her a short nod. She returned it.
