"Good heavens, how much longer does that woman intend to spend considering the matter?!"
Iryna slammed her small silver spoon onto her porcelain saucer with a sharp, echoing clatter that vibrated across the marble table. The tiny porcelain tea set rattled violently, dark drops of herbal tea sloshing over the delicate rim and staining the pristine white tablecloth. She paced back and forth across the plush, hand-woven carpet of her private sitting room, her heels digging angrily into the intricate floral pattern as the heavy silk layers of her crimson gown rustled aggressively with every sharp pivot.
"A year? Two years? It's a betrothal proposal, for goodness' sake, not a multi-stage military siege!"
