Haidar's imposing, nearly seven-foot build was not diminished in the least by his seated position. He let out a deep, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his dark, unkempt hair and trying to refocus himself. The two women were already at their wordless battle,<em>again.</em>He loathed that too. Straightening himself in his chair, he passed judgment on the last suit, then rose to his feet, raising his hands to gather the attention of the gathered courtiers. "Court is adjourned," the king announced, his deep voice carrying easily across the hall. He, for the moment, resumed his seat as his nobles, warriors, attendants, and applicants filed out the great pair of double doors that stood opposite from his platform.<br/><br/>Next, he turned to Isliea. "Sister, I have heard far too many grievances about bandits killing livestock and stealing property today. Gather some of our warriors. Do not return without heads," he instructed sternly. Without a word, or even a gesture, she was dismissed. When Haidar gave one of his siblings an order, he expected it to be carried out immediately if at all realistically possible. His dark eyes burned with envy. He wanted to strap on his weapons, mount his great black horse, and ride the sands to hunt down and behead a few cowardly thieves. He would have gladly taken her place.<br/><br/>But it could not be. His place was there. On that damnable throne, talking of politics with that so atypical Nydewian noble, Olivia. His gaze turned to her next. "Remind me why I must sit here and wait when I could be spilling good blood," he growled in frustration, well aware of the reasons but needing to hear them spoken again to temporarily quell his growing displeasure.