The King looked discontent as he slouched in the Archduke's leather chair behind the large, polished rectangular table.
Wary of what goes inside her uncle's head, Adela was thankful each time his gazing eyes flickered over the Archduke who sat on the other side of the table across from her, for only then was she able to feel the oxygen reaching her lungs.
Breathing came with its own cons.
It was so very quiet and dark outside the Archduke's study that the natural reflex of taking a breath sounded too noisy to her ears. She tried to convince herself that it was all in her head, a fragment of having to repeat everything that happened where no Lady should have gone twice to the two most powerful men in the kingdom.
Her nerves were as tight as a knot in a rope, and her fine manners and exemplary posture were a moment away from slipping as she waited for a comment or a question to come her way.
The sooner I am catechized, the sooner this interrogation ends...
