“Couldn't your Bonded walk in and empty them for us?” one of the men says, though his voice is very careful. He's obviously trying to convey a respectful sort of questioning, but Nox leans forward in his chair anyway. “Maybe we should just send your Bonded in. It’d be the most that she's done since getting the seat from her useless mother,” he mutters under his breath, though loud enough that the entire table hears it, and I have to bite my lip at the scandalized looks on their faces.
