In her absence the rooms had been tidied, the fire re-lit, and the bed made. She wondered why the quilt looked different.
‘A new one, my lady. The other was torn,’ said the maid who came to remove the untouched breakfast tray. She spoke in nasal tones that shortened the n sounds. ‘I have picked all the down off the floor. Umm, my lady… what shall I do with the red bodice? I found more buttons under the furniture, and they are all here. I could take it to the seamstress for mending.’ The girl was older than Sirani, with black hair and a mouth that hung slightly open. Her lower lip dimpled in the centre. Irenya heard the door close and suddenly realised she trembling with cold and exhaustion.
The clatter of the maid returning with a tray of fresh food woke Irenya. Wrapped in a blanket, she
