Camelia didn't know what to make of the maid's behavior. But she didn't dare try to approach her. She smelled completely off, like a contrast mixture of fear and something else; a dead, rotting corpses.
Her nose squeezed at the fowl stench.
"I have a message for you," The maid muttered.
"Um ok, but maybe you should put the knife down first, then we can talk," Camelia said, calmly, in an effort to persuade her.
The maids eyes darted to the left corner of the room before focusing on Camelia again.
"I c-can't," her voice trembled. "She won't let me,"
By now a confused frown had married Camelia's face. She took a quick glance at the corner the maid glanced at, but there was no one there, just the painting hanging on the wall.
She looked back at the maid.
"Who won't let you?" she aske
