Hairan didn't bother to hide the relief in his expression and posture as he stepped away from the table. Rycoff rose as well, bowing deeply, his daughter following with a graceful curtsy. It was one so perfectly practiced it was clear she had spent years in the company of other important courtiers. The eagerness that Rycoff and his daughter possessed clung to them like floral perfume: sweet, suffocating, and impossible to escape.
"Of course, Your Highness," Rycoff said with a too-bright smile. "We are honored to have been granted your time this morning. Should you require anything further—"
"I will send word," Hairan cut in smoothly.
A scathing retort hovered on the edge of Hairan's tongue, something about Rycoff's painfully obvious attempts to parade his daughter in front of him but he swallowed it down. Insulting Rycoff, no matter how justified it would be, was something he couldn't afford to do right now.
