Chapter 16
The next day, I was awoken from a surprisingly restful sleep by a knock at my door.
“Yes?” I called drowsily.
“Sera Celcio, your breakfast,” one of the servants called.
By the time I’d donned my blue dress and opened the door, the man was gone. A covered tray sat in the hallway just outside, and I sleepily carried it out to the patio. The air held a touch of night coolness, and, judging by the angle of the sun, the morning was still young.
I wondered if I could ask the servants to wake me later, then recalled that I was to have lessons with Paulette every morning. I screwed up my face—half yawn, half stretch—wishing I could control the pattern of my days. Even though I was now of age, the independence I craved still lay out of reach.
The wrought-iron table was half in the
