Standing from the dining table, Arabella folded her napkin with deliberate calm and placed it neatly beside her untouched cutlery. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound that followed, yet it felt loud enough to echo through the vast dining hall. She then turned toward the head maid, whose posture stiffened the instant Arabella's attention settled on her.
The woman had been watching the entire meal with a trembling sort of vigilance, her eyes darting between Arabella's face and the plates as if expecting poison to reveal itself at any second.
The tension within the castle had grown so thick it was suffocating, and everyone knew who would bear the consequences should anything go wrong. It was never the lords or ladies. It was always the servants.
When Arabella's sharp gaze moved toward her, the head maid flinched before she could stop herself. Her fingers curled tightly into her apron as she bowed her head.
