Waking to the faint golden light streaming through the gaps in the heavy curtains, I stirred, my mind sluggish but oddly calm. My arm was weighted down by something soft and warm-Katerina. Her face, serene and gentle, was turned toward me, her breathing steady in the quiet of the room.
For a moment, I gave in to watch her, my hand almost instinctively reaching toward her face to brush away one stray piece of hair. The skin was soft against my fingers, and I couldn't help but think that she really was a gem-a bit of art in a world that barely understood it.
And yet I couldn't not hear the discord within me. These actions-they were so natural and yet so foreign. In my old life, I would never have had the guts to do these things. To touch anyone this way, so openly, so certainly. Perhaps this was a body influencing me or perhaps it was a looming shadow of inevitable death that had striped away my inhibitions.
Either way, I didn't hate this life. Not totally. Even if it were to end soon.
My gaze wandered around the room as my eyes took in the details of the space I had previously overlooked. The dome-shaped ceiling above me was painted with the god of the empire, battling and triumphing, his victories frozen in colorful, vivid strokes. The left side of the room was lined with tall windows whose arches stretched up to the heavens. Heavy curtains of deep crimson-the color which brought warmth to the regal tone of the chamber-covered them.
Against the wall, there was a simple desk that was modest and unobtrusive in comparison with the rest of the room. The one cabinet it had contained a little keyhole-an anachronism among the total absence of mystery in this room. The marble flooring gleamed spotless and cool under my bare feet, a faint glow from the morning light reflected from it.
I slipped out of bed carefully not to wake her, my movements quiet and deliberate. Pulling on the red coat draped over a nearby chair, the cool air brushed against my skin. The garment hung long, reaching just below my knees, and I made no effort to tie it properly, leaving parts of my chest exposed.
My eyes drifted back to the desk and its locked cabinet—a silent challenge. Was it possible that the key from the office would fit?
As I was about to go after the thought, something odd occurred to me: there were no maids scurrying around today, as there had been yesterday. It was ominously quiet. I shrugged off the feeling and left the room, the coat billowing slightly as I moved.
The hallways were as vacant as my chambers, the only sounds my soft footsteps against the marble floors. As I turned a corner, the head manager appeared, his composure still intact.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," he said, his tone as polite and measured as usual.
I inclined my head slightly. "Good morning."
He cocked his head slightly, an almost inquiring gesture. "I trust your day has begun well?"
"Quiet," I replied, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "Quieter than I expected."
The head manager chuckled lightly, though it sounded more out of obligation than amusement. "I see. If there's anything you require, please, do not hesitate to ask."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said, brushing past him with little else to add.
As I approached the office, I noticed the faint hum of activity nearby-guards and staff moving about their duties. It was strange how they all so easily fell into place, like cogs in a well-oiled machine. No one ever questions his or her role or falters in an action.
Once inside the office, I went straight to the desk and opened the drawer. The small key was still there, its metal glinting faintly in the dim light. Picking it up, I turned it over briefly in my hands, then tucked it into my pocket.
I only felt the air heavier in my chambers, as if the walls watched me. I would catch glimpses of the staff when passing by; their eyes darting away should it fall upon a time when I might actually see them. It unnerved me.
By the time I got to my room, Katerina was gone, but the slight indentation on the bed told me where she had lain. I didn't waste any time crossing the room to the desk, the key already in hand as I inserted it into the lock.
The mechanism clicked softly, and the cabinet opened easily. Inside was a small leather-bound book. The cover was plain, the edges worn with age.