The king's private audience chamber lay at the end of a short corridor in the king's own wing, and the door stood slightly ajar when Henri arrived. He pushed it open the rest of the way and stepped inside, relaxing slightly as the familiar warmth and the faint scent of perfumes and woodsmoke wrapped around him.
Some things never changed, and the scents his mother had chosen to perfume his father's offices and audience chambers with always helped to take the edge off any meeting with the demanding patriarch of the DuGaal royal line.
