The observation came during what should have been routine debriefing.
Riya Descartes stood in the Academy's administrative tower, ostensibly reviewing protection protocols with Rai Zeus, her crystal glass of pure lemon juice in hand. They'd been coordinating founding family security measures for the past three hours—tedious but necessary work that involved managing political egos while implementing actual defensive strategies.
Then Riyan had entered to deliver intelligence update, and Riya's 248 years of observational experience had caught something in the micro-interaction between her son and Raven Zeus that made her maternal instincts sharpen into something far more predatory.
