In the ethereal chamber, Ambrose regarded the suspended figure with analytical scrutiny. Her divine beauty and the massive chains that somehow failed to weigh her down created a paradoxical image that triggered his instinctive suspicion.
"What? You don't believe I'm the goddess?" she asked, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
"I haven't even thought about it, " he considered this silently, his expression betraying nothing.
"You don't have to think about it. It's written all over your face," she continued, her voice carrying a melodic quality that seemed to resonate within the chamber itself.
Ambrose mentally acknowledged her perceptiveness, impressed despite his skepticism.
"Thanks," she responded to his unspoken compliment, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
His analytical mind raced through possibilities. Perhaps she wasn't reading his thoughts at all, but merely pretending, using subtle cues to create an illusion of telepathy.
