"They should be alarmed. I ruled this world once." She would think that would be obvious. Illyria lifts her chin, not remotely aggrieved, because to be aggrieved over something so simple and small would befit only the rats the crawl on this world's surface, and nothing so grand as she.

Upon the principality's frustration - how interesting its patterns, it peels away from him in great disgruntled waves - she looks upon it with disdain.

"I cannot," she informs it coolly. "An oath was made to my Qwa'ha Xahn. The vermin are to remain untouched."

She made the oath to her Qwa'ha Xahn. Her old Qwa'ha Xahn. To Wesley.

She misses Wesley.

She is getting distracted.

And she does not miss anyone.

That would be absurd.