Everyone was sticking to the brief and keeping the introductions simple. Normally she would’ve rattled off a list of titles and battle honors that was a mile long.

“Should I be chosen, I will raise our child in the finest tradition of my House. I shall make our child strong, powerful, decisive, skilled in the battle arts—"

The doors burst open, and Lady Wexyn appeared in the huge doorway. She was five foot nothing, and all of her was wrapped in a shiny golden gown and decorated with jewelry, as if someone had taken a 5-gallon bucket of precious accessories, tossed it at her, and most of it had stuck.

She wasn’t simply curvy, she was voluptuous, with large full breasts, a round firm butt, and a soft tummy. Her naturally pale skin was sun kissed to a glowing tan. Her dark brown hair rode on top of her head in an elaborate ponytail that dripped curled locks onto her shoulders. A massive headdress crowned the front of her head, with the ponytail strategically threaded through it. It looked like a tree made of pure gold, complete with branches dripping with ruby flowers and supporting tiny, bejeweled birds. The whole thing added three feet to her height.

She opened her big dark eyes as wide as they could go and declared in a loud voice, “Your Majesty!!!”

Resven turned green.

Kosandion didn’t miss a beat. “Lady Wexyn, what a pleasure to have you with us.”

“You didn’t wait for me, Your Majesty. Am I late?” She clasped one hand to her ample bosom. A dozen thin bracelets in every precious metal found in the galaxy clinked on her wrist.

“Only a little. Please join us.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

She swept into the room, somehow keeping the golden oak upright on her head. Unessa’s hip roll was amateur hour. This was a master class. It was hypnotic. There was no way I could ever imitate that sashay. Not only did I not have the hips or joints for it, I didn’t have the confidence.

Next to me Kosandion leaned his elbow on the armrest of his throne, rested his chin on his hand, and tried very hard to appear disinterested. At the Observer Gallery, Gaston was blinking rapidly. Tony leaned in a little to watch as she passed, and Sean was staring intently at her back. Hehe.

“Sean, pick your jaw up off the floor,” I murmured with a small smile.

“She moves very well.”

“I noticed.”

“No, not like that. That thing on her head is real gold. Scan it.”

I nudged the inn. Lady Wexyn was carrying fifty-two pounds on her head and thirty-five on her body. And she moved like a weightless butterfly. She reached her delegation with a dazzling smile, and they swarmed her in apparent joy. Someone clapped their hands. Someone squeed in a high-pitched voice.