Despite all the noise and protests that she had needed to endure to get into them, the King's quarters were far too quiet, Kensa decided grumpily. And there were too many unfamiliar spaces that reminded her how little time she had actually spent in these quarters.
Her father lived almost like a bachelor, despite having been married for over forty PiYears. The public areas of his quarters were not grandiose, but they were neat, cozy, and lived in. They held traces of his wife and children, a variety of momentos, digital images, and collected objects.
The private areas, tucked into places that the surveillance stations couldn't see, held only one man's clutter. Her fingers reached out to touch a painting that she recognized as the background for most of her calls to him, and then she turned, and surveyed the space in front of her.
