Outside the window, the sound of hooves continued, and the curtains fluttered slightly with the movement of the carriage, letting in a few strands of light that spilled between the seats.
A faint breeze brushed past the hem of the skirt, bringing a cool sensation to the thighs not covered by the maid's dress and stockings.
Lyra placed her hands above her knees, her fingers tightly gripping the fabric of her skirt.
Her smooth, delicate white-stockinged legs were pressed closely together, and even the heels of her small leather shoes unconsciously pressed against the seat.
What had she just said...
Being stared at by Astrid, coupled with the other's somewhat cold remarks earlier, Lyra found herself at a loss for words. In the end, she blurted out something she herself didn't even understand.
"I am your personal maid, right?"
