Athea walked into the room, or rather, she glided, her movement fluid and precise, as though gravity itself had negotiated terms with her.
She wore a dark, tailored dress that seemed to absorb the light around it, making her appear almost like a living shadow against the pristine white of the suite.
When their eyes met, the first thing Sage noticed was the resemblance. The woman's eyes, ice-blue, piercing were the exact same shade as Zaeryn's, set above the same sharp, aristocratic cheekbones.
'Well, she is his mother,' Sage thought, keeping her expression warm and professional as the princess approached.
Athea stopped in the center of the room, her gaze sweeping over Sage with an assessment that felt like a physical scan, methodical, thorough, reading data Sage couldn't see.
"Dr. Stellan," Athea said, her voice cool and melodic. "I trust the accommodations are suitable?"
Sage gave a respectful nod. "They are. Thank you, Your Highness."
