[ the more alhaitham speaks, the more his guilt washes away. at times, kaveh finds he almost loathes the sound of alhaitham's voice. he speaks, and there's berating, there's arguing, there's poking and prodding at matters that should never concern him. time and time again, kaveh feels as though he is in the center of a room covered in mirrors, and there is nowhere to hide.

he shouldn't have asked anything of alhaitham. there is no worth in letting go of pride. ]

Do the Vissudhans have no respect for their prince, if words from his personal slave weight the same? [ kaveh bites back, the burning red of his eyes shooting daggers at alhaitham's visage. ] What need is there for caste, then, if between the Ali Qapu's walls, your servants hold pride in a slave's praise?