The Queen's wing of the palace looked more like a velvet-lined grave than a simple suite of rooms.
After Malakor had suddenly left the King's private chambers, two high-ranking attendants escorted Soren down a silent marble corridor toward the eastern tower.
Heavy oak doors swung open to reveal a huge, brightly lit room with silk tapestries, plush fur-covered daybeds and glass censers burning rose oil that smelled sweet yet a bit too strong. There was a woman standing near the edge of a massive four-poster bed. She was wearing a smart blue velvet gown. Her grey hair was tied back into a tight, perfect bun, while her posture was as straight as a marble pillar.
