The days bled together.
Aria woke, she worked and went back to her room. The spaces between these things grew thin and meaningless. Food sat untouched on her windowsill. The silver stone went hard. The cheese from the day before grew mould. She didn’t notice any of it.
She stopped speaking. Not because she had nothing to say, but because the effort of forming words felt like lifting stones. When Mira asked her a question, she nodded or shook her head. When Marta gave orders, she obeyed without a sound.
The other servants stopped mocking her because it was no fun in it anymore. She had become something they didn't recognize. A a pale girl in a servant dress. And her cough had become way worse.
It came in fits now, deep, and wrenching things that doubled her over and left her gasping. Sh
