I barely managed a nod before blurting, "I need food. Real food."
The butler blinked. "I thought you were on a strike diet to lose weight, my lady?"
I shot him a glare that could curdle milk. "That was weeks ago," I said flatly. "Now I need food. I need rest. I need sleep. I need everything. I am exhausted."
I did not wait for a reply. The moment I reached the living room, my strength abandoned me. I collapsed onto the couch like a fallen noblewoman in a tragic opera. The familiar scent of clean linens and scented candles wrapped around me, warm and grounding. For the first time in days, my shoulders loosened.
Coffi and Latte immediately knelt, efficient as always. Shoes off. Corset loosened. Latte combed my hair with slow, careful strokes. Coffi massaged my feet, and I nearly cried from the relief.
The butler returned with coffee, placed it gently on the table, and informed me dinner would be ready soon.
