She didn't seem to move, to do anything, and yet the entire attitude of the gathering changed. The collective queens stepped back, bowing their heads, turning to engage in conversation as though I wasn't among them any longer. Only Sarameia remained, her anger a physical thing next to me.
"Great Empress," she said, fury barely contained. "Surely we shall not tolerate-"
And stopped talking. Her eyes bulged briefly, whole body rigid as the Empress turned her head slowly, glittering black eyes tracking to pin the younger queen in her gaze. I instantly admired-and feared-the intensity of her casualness, the way she didn't react with even a hint of emotion while Sarameia clawed at her chest, sinking to her knees beside me. The conversation in the room felt to silence, everyone staring with flat, judging eyes.
"Enough," my vampire said, ever so softly. "She is young, yet. Perhaps unworthy of her position. But we are ancient and meant to tolerate the errors of youth."