The young woman nodded. Cara struggled under the weight, but she lifted the basket onto a shoulder and carried it up the stairs.

The inner walls of the keep had a number of laundry-lines set up. Even from the balcony of Lantal and Risel’s private rooms. They’d strung rope up everywhere there was space; it was one of those things you’d never imagine needing. But bandages needed to be cleaned and washed. Healing potions were being rationed. And clean clothing was also important, for morale and preventing disease, especially with fighting rotting corpses.

“Excuse me, I have laundry that needs drying.”

Cara knocked on the door to Lantal’s quarters. She heard a muffled voice.

“Come in.”

The young woman opened the door. For a moment her view was blocked by the basket. Lady Risel was checking on something.

“Very carefully, Sasi. A quarter in each bottle. Then stopper it up, put it here. Thank you for bringing the laundry. Please hang it—oh.”

She and Sasi were working at a table, measuring glowing liquid into empty glass bottles. Healing potions.

Sasi stared at Cara in shock as the [Singer] put down the basket; then she slowly slid off her chair and hid behind her mother.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll just—”

Cara fumbled with the basket. She nearly spilled it as she carried it past Risel, who regarded her gravely, and Sasi, who looked at Cara with fresh hatred. She nearly ran into the third occupant of the room, who was putting the quarter-bottles into a small crate to be carried to the walls.

Princess Seraphel. The [Singer] stared at the [Princess], doing such a mundane task. Seraphel’s brows rose.

“Miss Cara.”

“Oh.”

“Mother. Why is she doing the laundry?”

Sasi stared at Cara’s back with suspicion. Risel gathered her daughter up.

“Miss Cara is helping out, Sasi, just like you and Princess Seraphel.”

“But she was the one who—”

“Enough. Your father has made it clear it was an accident. Help me fill the bottles.”

Silently, Sasi moved back to the table. She kept glaring at Cara. For her part, the [Actress] just hauled the heavy basket across the room towards the balcony.

The door was closed, probably since the air stank. Cara fumbled with the latch, cursing silently.

Someone rose and opened it for her.

“Here.”

“Thank you—”

Cara looked at Seraphel. Again, the two regarded each other. Seraphel was only a bit older than Cara.

Twenty eight? Twenty nine? Surely before her thirties.

“Thanks.”

The young woman awkwardly carried the basket out towards the line strung up there. She took the fresh laundry in; she’d have to reattach the line once she’d pinned all the wet cloth to dry. It took Cara a moment to realize that Seraphel had followed her onto the balcony and closed the door.

“Can I help you?”

Cara looked up. Seraphel regarded her. The [Princess] was wearing her tiara and a dress untouched by dirt. She didn’t fit the scene, any more than Cara did.