Celest snapped her fingers, and an old servant came over. A woman clearly in the age of retirement, but seemed to have more to her than meets the eye.
She arrived without hurry, but not with the slow shuffle of the harmless. Her steps were measured, quiet against the veranda stone, and the way she held her spine said she had served in rooms more dangerous than this one without ever needing to raise her voice.
The palace lantern light caught the lines in her face and made them look earned rather than aged. Ludwig watched her the way he watched a weapon being placed on a table: not afraid, just attentive.
The maid's gaze touched Ludwig once and moved on, not lingering on his face like the younger servants did, not showing curiosity or awe. It was an appraisal, professional and fast, like she was confirming that the man the Princess had brought here was real and not another court rumor. Ludwig found that oddly reassuring. It meant she wasn't the type to be distracted by stories.
