"Duchess, is everything alright?"
Satine's cheeks flushed. "It appears I have matters to attend to. If you'll excuse me…" Muting Almec's cries of protest, she hurried into the nursery, where her two-year-old son sat pounding his fists on the bars of his crib.
"Mama! Mama!"
"What is it, Korkie?" Satine asked, unable to hide her exasperation. She had hoped that scheduling meetings during nap time would mean fewer tantrums. Evidently, she was wrong.
"I lost my tooka cat!"
By the time Satine returned to the meeting, hair mussed and knees sore, Almec had already left.