Empress Katya had to take a moment to compose her rushed breathing before she shooed away the frightened attendants that stood before one of the many rooms in her son's private abode.
It had changed since the last time she saw it. There was a new painting in the hallway leading to this particular room and the running carpet she had specially selected years before was nowhere to be seen.
His apartments always seemed to be changing every time she saw them. Just like her son. A constant, shifting kaleidoscope of desires, but not a single one of them included the throne.
With her breath composed, Katya entered the room in the small, measured steps that did not ruffle her full skirt, just as she had been trained. Although her appearance was unbothered, her own heart was in turmoil.
The opposite could be said of her son. His shirt was untucked and his short, gold locks akimbo. It was clear that his thoughts had taken him far from his body.
