>Mallory
"Young Madam."
This time, the voice didn't come from the receptionist. I turned around, already has an idea of who it might me would be. There's is only three people who called me that way.
Secretary Plave stood a few steps behind me, his posture straight, his expression composed as ever. I'd only seen him properly once—when Grandfather visited the house weeks ago—but he was memorable in the way people who lived their lives beside power often were. And the atmosphere that tells me he was really good at his job.
The receptionist stiffened the moment she saw him. Her face draining of all colors.
"S-Secretary Plave," she said, scrambling to stand and ended up with a deep bow. The change in attitude caught me off guard.
Plave's gaze moved briefly to her, then settled on me. He gave a respectful nod.
"Young Madam," he repeated calmly. "Is there a problem?"
Before I could answer, the receptionist hurried to speak, her voice tight. "This woman insists she's—"
