Here and there. [Waltaquin lets the non-answer sit there a moment the length of time it takes her to drink and to contemplate the depths of the liquid.] If I understood her entirely, I'd have thrown her out right away.

[For all that they're the words of a detached a cruel person, a child who breaks toys and throws them away for being broken, it's said with a tone of fond attachment. Perhaps at the start, she'd thought Psyche less than she really was. It had changed quickly enough. Psyche does have her way.]

The soul must still linger so they can be called... But I don't really think of it that way. They are under my command. Just bones and tissue sucked dry of ought else. [Just meat. Her mind quivers a little but stays standing.] Even kings fear this kind of sorcery.

What about you? [She holds the glass out to be taken rather than sliding it along this time.] To your envy?