Althea glided into her office, her demeanor as frosty as a winter morning, fully prepared to face Vyan. Instead, she was greeted by his overly enthusiastic, golden retriever of an aide.
"Where is Vyan?" she demanded the moment she crossed the threshold.
Clyde shot up from his seat with the precision of a wind-up toy, executing an overly dramatic bow. "Good afternoon, Your Imperial Highness!"
"Where is Vyan?" she repeated, her tone sharper.
"His Grace went out to get some fresh air," Clyde replied, his smile widening as if he had just delivered the most delightful news.
"I can imagine why he would need that. Being trapped in a meeting with those greedy, selfish people for two hours—ugh. It must have been suffocating."
Clyde nodded vigorously. "Indeed, quite suffocating it was. Anyway, it has been a while since we last met," he said, gulping audibly, "Althea."
