I sat at my desk, staring out of the stained-glass window as I waited. The room was quiet; the colors of the setting sun made muted patterns on the polished floor. When the head manager arrived, his steps echoed faintly, deliberate but with a nervous energy behind them.
He paused a few feet from my desk, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty," he greeted, his voice formal and tentative.
I motioned for him to straighten up. "Less fawning," I said serenely, though I was aware of a faint edge creeping into my voice.
The manager blinked, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked, his voice tentative. He dropped into another deep bow. "If I've displeased you, please forgive me, Your Majesty."
I sighed, shaking my head. "No, you haven't done anything wrong," I said, waving a hand to dismiss his concern. "But I have business to discuss. Let's skip the theatrics."
The manager straightened again, his posture now measured. He removed his glasses, cleaning them methodically with a cloth before slipping them back on. His demeanor shifted entirely—calm, professional, and focused. "What is it you require, Your Majesty?"
I fumbled for the right words and looked down, then replied, "I want you to plan a palace construction near the western lake. for my wife."
There was a pause in his response while he took the time to absorb my statement. "Would you prefer that it be quickly done or do something particular to befit the madam, Katerina?"
The name struck me like a thunderclap. Katerina. So that was her name. My face remained impassive, but inside, my mind reeled. Why hadn't I known this before? Why had no one mentioned her name until now?
I pushed the thoughts aside, refocusing on the task at hand. "Something unique," I said. "Make it nice. Nothing cheap."
The head manager nodded curtly, his lips pressed into a tight line. For a moment, I thought I caught a flicker of irritation in his expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Saying nothing more, he turned and left the room, his footsteps brisk and purposeful.
As the door closed behind him, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Katerina. The name echoed within me and bore some weird weight.
There was something unnerving with the simple obedience of people around here; there was no protest, as if they themselves didn't count, did what was ordered of them, and left. Alien.
Why had I said they needed permission to leave earlier? The thought struck me out of the blue. I sounded like one of those self-absorbed aristocrats I used to mock.
The sun's light was abruptly banished, and the room passed into darkness. I rose up out of my chair and began to make my way back toward my quarters. The corridors were as chill and dead as ever, and my footsteps echoed faintly off their stone walls.
The maids awaited me inside my bedchamber, never a word wasted. They moved to surround me, gesturing that I follow them into the bathing chamber. I made no objections this time, too weary from battle. Maybe this is how a tyrant enjoys his luxuries; or perhaps I had no energy for objections.
Dressed and dry, at least treated as any doll should be, I retired back into my room. The senior maid then approached me, just before I would lie down.
"Would you like us to call for Madam Katerina?" she asked softly, her head lowered.
Her question startled me, but I found myself nodding. "Bring her," I said, surprising even myself.
The maids exchanged quick glances but obeyed, returning shortly with her.
Katerina stepped into the room, her eyes red and swollen, as though she'd been crying. Her nightgown clung to her figure, showing the grace of her silhouette. Her blue hair shimmered faintly in the low light, framing her face in a way that made her beauty almost otherworldly.
She stood near the door, her expression sharp and guarded. "Why have you called me?" she asked bluntly. "This would be the first time since you kidnapped me and brought me here."
The words stung, even though they weren't aimed at me-the real me. I wanted to defend myself, but there was no defense to offer. I barely even knew her.
Yet, I couldn't show her my hesitation. "You're the fool who agreed to come with me," I said coolly and indifferent.
Her expression faltered, but she didn't say another word. She turned her gaze away, refusing to look at me.
The silence stretched between us, heavy and unyielding.
I wanted to say something else, somehow to bridge the gap, but the words wouldn't come.
And just like that, the moment passed, and the distance between us seemed wider than ever.