All the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Vedette didn't look terrified, nor did she look particularly angry. In fact, she was mostly looking through the table as if she could see the tips of her boots. Oh yes, they would have been very interesting right now. Beneath the completely calm, if not slightly distracted look on her face.. she was seething angry at Lethe. She shouldn't have ever picked favorites, but Lethe was a complete and utter... couldn't voice it even in her head. But Lethe was a miserable one. The only indication of her actual emotion over this particular meeting was the fist she closed beside her chair.
She finally looked away from the table as she chair slid out behind Ithacles. Vedette turned her head to look at who was moving the chair. She lifted her eyes and met Cavras' eyes for a moment. Both of them were aware that the Prince could be quite an angry and violent fellow, but neither of them had to deal with this particular sort of event before. Just as they met eyes they both turned back to Lethe. Vedette paused in looking at the Princess to look at Ithacles hand. She let out a breath. Dramatics.
All of this.
It was true, that Pirne's man had drawn steel first, but it should never have turned into what it did. If the Kings Men did their jobs then maybe they would have recognized the traitor in their mist. But they hadn't. And now they were in this awkward position. Vedette still didn't feel comfortable saying anything. She wasn't suppose to pick favorites. She also wasn't suppose to get involved in the kind of fight she'd just been a part of.
She just had to finish it, or else Skandra would have been dead. And somehow, though the Princess may not have liked it, that seemed more important than saving face.