As Jenaveve looked over the three monarchs who perched on their thrones, she mused at how they did not appear arrogant and overbearing like King Joel, nor as eccentric as the Duke of Wetherill. Instead, they held a serene eminence, with a sense of strength but also of amity. A lot like the Alphas at Tereswin. It stoked an immediate appealing ambience, yet the comment the king had said moments ago encouraged the exact opposite. How did this stranger know about the gods inside them?
Her eyes flipped from the king to the other two sitting on his flanks, trying to read their faces, see what they knew. Being in the presence of a king, any king, had already put her on edge. Kings were cruel! Without thinking about what she was doing, Jenaveve took a step toward Rían, leaning her body into his.
