Queen Rona walked at least fifteen steps ahead of Kit the entire distance to her throne room, which was so far away from her own chambers, Kit always felt like she was in a parade or taking a constitutional by the time she got there. Her mother turned down a side hallway headed for her private throne room, which was less intimidating than the larger one she used for visiting dignitaries and other important events, like meting out justice. The smaller room was more intimate but just as highly decorated, and Kit was slightly embarrassed to be dripping rain water all over the red carpet.
Her mother took a seat on her throne, waving her hand at the guards, who closed the doors behind them, and Kit lowered her head, waiting patiently for her mother to give the signal that she may rise. After thrusting her ring in front of her daughter’s face, letting Kit kiss it, and then taking several more beats of silence just for her own amusement, Rona said, “Rise, daughter.”
