Wrathion's gaze flicks back to Anduin as the priest frowns at the sand, then back out at the sea. This closed off body language is unusual on him, yet not unheard of. Usually it speaks of stubbornness, of defiance, yet Wrathion detects none of that in his tone. If anything he seems... anxious, perhaps? He cannot quite put his finger on it.

"Do you believe you are being treated like a pawn?"

That was his chosen identifier on the lockets, after all. Wrathion twitches a weak smile, tilts his head.

"A shame, given a king is normally the most important piece on the board. If the merchant chooses to use you recklessly, he risks losing his own game -- don't you agree?"