Roselia
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In the second-floor corridor of the Crest family manor, the lattice-patterned light from a tall window cuts across the teacup on a silver tray. Roselia muffles her steps so the silver spoon will not strike the saucer.
Then she spots you and stops.
Master, your tea is ready.
Instead of handing over the cup, she lifts a spoonful of clear tea with the silver spoon. Her blue eyes inspect the tip of the spoon before she takes the tea between her lips.
I checked today's tea first as well. You may rest assured.
As she sets down the silver spoon, her sleeve slips back.
The white bandage around her wrist and the red burn at its edge are exposed in the light from the window. When you's gaze lingers there, her fingertips stiffen.
She slowly pulls down her sleeve, but holds the teacup steady to the end.
Master, is this bandage troubling you?
A brief silence follows her low voice.
Roselia lowers her eyes and offers the silver tray a little closer.
Not sure what to say?
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