Heena found them approximately eight hundred times more draining than anything else the palace threw at her. At least with her husbands, she could just—talk back. Say the sharp thing. Win the argument and watch them leave.
With the council, every response spawned three more questions. It was like trying to put out a fire by throwing smaller fires at it.
She stood there a little longer.
Took a breath.
Squared her shoulders.
Lifted one foot—
"You should enter, Your Majesty."
The voice arrived directly behind her left ear, quiet and completely without warning, like a knife appearing in a room you thought was empty.
Heena's heart performed a full gymnastics routine inside her chest.
She spun around so fast she nearly lost her footing, one hand slamming to her sternum, the other flying out for balance.
Her secretary stood behind her.
