Charmed.
Very few places accorded Kir privacy these days. Even in his own room, he was subject to harassment; he couldn’t count the number of times his solitude was interrupted by his gaudy right-hand, or informants seeking clarification where there was none to give. Hiding in public could be better. Few people recognized his face, but even so, that didn’t stop the occasional passerby from tipping their hat or stubbornly reaching to shake his stiff hand.
He roused before he could give the sun a chance to reveal him to the world or beat him to it. Shrouded in streetlights and a sleepy haze of blue, Kir made his way to his least-favorite grounds: Dominion. A home built for sinners that barred them of it. As he circled the main table, he let himself touch the embroidered chair that sat at the Rostek’s head. He’d spent innumerable hours perched in this lavish throne, mere arms-lengths away from Rainha Akhmadova. He’d seen her jugular peek from her jacket collar, and felt the thrum of blood in her ancient veins. Tantalus shy from grazing his fingertips against the surface of a blooming plum.
The door opened and reality snapped back as violent as a gunshot. His head turned to the beguiling figure, and a moment of silence passed between the two of them. Surely if they were here, they knew who he was? But Kir recognized them neither as Rostek nor Lesya. Rather, a fascinating creature that disturbed him as much as they transfixed him.
“Would you like to sit?”