Vincent’s POV“Doctor Anderson,” Rowan said, curtly. “He’s here.”
Dr. Anderson didn’t bother with ceremony. He folded his hands as if the room were his operating theater. His eyes surveyed everyone present like he owned the air we were breathing.
“Your Majesty,” he nodded once, then his eyes slid toward Delilah. It had this little spark like he was patronizing. “I’ve been briefed. A child with hybrid traits. Of course, it’s politically delicate and that makes it more interesting.”
Delilah’s mother exhaled in a pleased, protective manner. Her father sat straighter, the perfect portrait of a composed man. Delilah herself folded her hands and had a smile so rehearsed it might as well have been stitched into her skin. She watched Anderson like someone watching a play she sponsored but secret
