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Saghani watched as he responded to her, and her reaction was perfectly ritualized. Saghani herself had noted the expression of confoundedness, perceptive to the perpetually literal language of the body... but when he gained his repose and came toward her, Saghani advanced to see what his intent here was. She idly thought of Tryphon, but then neatly put a placeholder on the opened page of their book to return to later. 

If he was courting her, she would suss that out swiftly. Her tail lifted in a picture, now, of dominance; not of this place, but of this situation, of what would transpire between them, and should anything at all transpire, it not be short-lived. She stared at him with the mettle of a Queen, and paused only just before him—kiss or kill distance, she recognized—and lingered there, eyes watchful, body rigid beneath its soft looking shell. 

Queen me, Saghani implied, knocking aside the other pawns with a swiftness befitting her character. Her breathing was easy, but there was not an inch of her that was not prepared to act and react as the moment demanded.