Horus stared at her for a long moment, long enough for either of them to have said something. Anything. It didn't matter. When he let go of the arms on his throne, Horus realized his hands were aching. The king could feel his heart beating in his chest. Each beat reminded him of who he was speaking to, and the chair he'd been sitting in when he'd spoken to her that way. Horus doubted he would ever forgive her for being so easy in undermining him - as he'd admitted to himself, she did it for him. In his best interest. Whatever else happened, he knew that. She was his mother. She loved him, and wanted the best for him. She just didn't trust his judgment when it came to making decisions.
One deep breath. Then two.
"I'm sorry," Horus said as he dropped into the heavy gilded chair, expelling one final breath. "I'm sorry. He isn't my uncle, whatever you say, but I shouldn't have ... I'm sorry."
Something about her manner told him she wouldn't be so quick to forgive. Then again, neither would he. Things were always more complicated with his mother, more complicated than he liked. One of these days they would have to talk about her interference. He doubted her pride would suffer that conversation for long. It never did, when it came to Isis overstepping her bounds.