MARIA.
I reluctantly dragged myself upright from the bed, my bones feeling heavier than they should, and forced my aching feet toward the door. There was no point lying around or pretending I could hide forever, duties were duties, and I still had to serve guests whether my chest felt tight or not.
The hallway was loud, the air thick with footsteps and murmurs, and I slipped into the tide of rogues headed toward the kitchen.
I dashed down the corridor, my breath uneven, wishing the floor would swallow me, wishing the evening would simply vanish into thin air.
When I reached the kitchen, my mood sank even lower. There was a line, a very long, snaking, miserable line, filled with weary rogue servants already ahead of me. I stopped behind the last person and exhaled deeply, trying to steady the annoyed flutter inside my chest.
Figures.
