She knew he would say nothing. There would be a strident lecture if she failed to appear, but once she did, there would be no praise, no comment at all beyond a formal dismissal.
If Kitana had done it, there would've been a celebration.
If Kitana so much as blew her nose when the Emperor suggested it, Hells! That was cause for a parade.
"You reek."
"Move." Karnassus and Riskh' had a new set of those tricksy razor-edged cards and several new bottles of wine; she was eager for both.
"And you're wounded."
"It'll scar over. Move, or I will move you."
Kitana didn't budge.
Mileena did not waste her breath on lies. She grabbed her elegant, lovely, unbearable sibling by her silk-sleeved shoulders and lifted her clean off her feet, on tiptoe. Kitana squeaked in protest and spluttered at her a little as she was swept aside.
"Who do you think you are?"
"Does it matter?"
That wine was calling her name. They could sort out the reasons Kitana was her better in the morning, or the next afternoon, or the day after that. She had nothing to gain by tarrying here.
"It should."
"Don't frown. You'll get wrinkles."
AND.
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