Night had fallen. Inside the Empress' private bedroom, a tastefully decorated chamber, gentle breathing was barely audible. Cool evening breeze drifted in from outside, and a silvery moonbeam fell across the windowsill, illuminating a pair of flat sandals placed haphazardly beside the bed, moderately hinting at its owner's far more agitated state of mind than usual when retiring.
Cradling a petite, boneless-soft golden-haired girl wrapped in a pure white nightgown, Astrid felt the warmth and suppleness of the girl's body. A faint, delicate fragrance wafted from her hair, mingling with the rhythm of Amalia's breath and filling Astrid's nostrils.
After Hibbort's death, Amalia had redesigned the layout of this private chamber and ordered servants to add more furnishings, infusing it with a more lived-in atmosphere.
