The prince and the queen mother had already been escorted to the Princess. Serenica saw that the woman matched the mental image she had of her, she was beautiful for her age, yet she had somehow made herself so small, so mousy, so forgettable that if it had not been for her dress, she could have been just about any woman from the Great East. There was nothing noteworthy about this submissive and meek woman – she had the face of someone who had been berated too many times.
"Yout Highness," Serenica said and gave a little bow. It was true that the greeting was one fitting for a common woman, but she had been lying and groveling for so long that she didn't have any pretentiousness left to spare.
When the queen mother moved, she moved like a wounded animal, and her hands often found their way on her concave stomach or over her heart.
