My heart jumped a bit when the large mahogany double doors had burst open. I squeaked and turned around, cutting off my conversation with June and turning to face the door with a straight spine and an attempt at a regal pose and calm disposition.
However, my heart dived into my stomach when yet another maid walked in with a giant pitcher containing what could either be wine or water. She bowed low at her waist and continued on her way, setting the pitcher on the large dining table spread out in front of us and stocked up with mouthwatering food and drinks in preparation for the private feast I had invited my mate to.
She bowed again before she left, walking out of the room and closing the doors behind her.
My shoulders slumped.
What if he doesn't show up? What if he doesn't honour
