Milk?

Liliana's smile widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Of course he won't. But that's where my clan comes in. We give them what they want—within reason—and in return, they give us what we need. And with you at the helm, there's no limit to what we can achieve."

Her hand moved to his thigh, her touch firmer now, grounding him as she leaned even closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper, soft and intimate. "You are the eldest son, Lorryll. You are Kaezhlar's future. Your father may not see it yet, but once you make Avyaburgh yours, he will have no choice but to recognize your strength. And I will be by your side, ensuring that no one—no rival sibling, no opposing force—can stand in your way."

Lorryll's lips quirked into a faint smirk. Her confidence was infectious; her unwavering belief in him was a balm to his troubled mind. He placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently as if to acknowledge her words without fully voicing his gratitude.