The three sisters fled with alacrity. They recognized exactly how dangerous their mother's mood was. The door closed behind them with a large bang that felt like a cell door slamming shut.
Her Majesty's scrutiny shifted between Rhys and Claudia, assessing and deeming both insufficient.
"You," she addressed Claudia with the tone someone might use for particularly persistent vermin, "should not be here. This wing is for family only."
"My son lives here," Claudia replied, her voice steady despite facing someone who could destroy her with a word to the right ears. "I have every right to visit him."
"Your son," the Queen repeated, each syllable dripping with contempt, "exists here through my husband's weakness and my own reluctant tolerance. Do not presume rights where none exist."
She turned her full attention to Rhys, and he felt the weight of that gaze. This close, he could see the subtle lines around her eyes, and how much hatred rested in them.
