Eiravyne sat at the edge of her bed while the maids worked around her.
Her nightgown was folded away without comment, replaced piece by piece with garments chosen long before she had woken.
"Arms, my lady."
She lifted them obediently.
Fabric slid over her skin, cool at first, then warming as it settled.
Laces tightened with practiced restraint. Another layer followed, then another, until the softness of earlier felt like a distant thing.
Her thoughts wandered to the other night.
A maid smoothed the front of her dress as she stood, fingertips lingering just long enough to remove a wrinkle.
One of the maids was brushing her dark hair when suddenly she felt the room change.
The sudden weight of being looked at.
She lifted her eyes to the door and saw Urag standing behind her.
A maid adjusted a sleeve. Another smoothed fabric. Their hands kept moving, but slower now, uncertain.
Urag took a step forward.
Then another.
Still saying nothing to anyone.
