COLE
Before night fell, I arrived at Anastasia’s private sitting room.
She was lounging on a double-seated chaise, her eyes half-lidded with lazy elegance. Several attendants knelt on the carpet around her, each bearing a tray—an array of sweets, tea, and wine arranged meticulously atop them.
Her personal maid stood just behind her, and the moment I stepped across the threshold, those sharp eyes found me. She leaned close, whispered into Anastasia’s ear, and at once Anastasia’s eyes fluttered open.
“My dear son, you’re here. I thought I’d be waiting much longer,” she purred, smiling. She gestured at the single armchair beside her without bothering to shift her posture, still reclining, as if the world moved only for her.
I approached and slouched into the chair, letting my gaze roam
