ETAN
Stunned, Etan just stared at the Zenithran Queen for a moment. She stood proud and tall, just inside the door, her chin high. She wore a deep-red dress with a wide neckline, that clung to her arms, breasts, and waist before flaring over her hips to the floor. She was a stunning woman, though she held nothing of Ayleth's sweetness and joy. Hers was a cold beauty—and while her eyes shone with deep intelligence, there again he saw a disparity with her daughter.
Where Ayleth's intelligent eyes brimmed with warmth and curiosity, her mother's were calculating, measuring. This was not a woman to be trifled with—nor a woman to trust.
Despite the inches he had on her, she managed to set herself so that she appeared to looked down her nose at him. For a moment he felt like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
"Where's Ayleth?" he blurted.
