It was like he was drawn there each night. Like his legs forgot how to get to his own room, like they forgot where else to walk and only knew the steps to this room.
Every night.
And every night, he stepped forward to the door, every night he placed his hand on the door-handle pulling the doors open, and every night he stares into the darkness of the room and walks in.
The cool draft in the room hits his face as he closes the doors behind him. It was quiet.
Boris continues forward as his eyes adjust to the darkness in the room. He didn't really need to adjust his eyes as he was well aware of the things in the room. The placement of each object, where each chair, table, and rug was located, he knew.
'It's been a year since the prince has gone into battle, yet we have not received any details from them yet. Have you received some information, your highness?'
