My mind was too loud, too busy. And the Three Stooges were bickering and egging one another on. I needed space to think, to breathe.
I excused myself once we had cleaned up dinner and headed upstairs to my room. I had some business to take care of still and needed the peace and quiet of my own space. My room also doubled as an office while we were home, and I sat at my desk once I had closed my door and locked it.
My room was my haven, crisp white linens and contrasting black furniture. I had a few paintings hung; one of my father and another of my mother. I had had them commissioned when I started this: our empire. I hung them above my desk so that they could watch over me, remind me why I couldn't fail, couldn't falter.
My father was a bastard of a man, so if anyone understood Selen
