The morning crept in behind pale clouds.
Beatrice stirred before the first bell, eyes open to a ceiling she didn't remember staring at. Her body felt heavy, though she knew she hadn't truly slept. Not restfully. Just closed her eyes and waited for the night to pass.
She sat up slowly. The balcony doors were still cracked open from the night before. A breeze had swept in, leaving the edges of her curtains askew and her journal slightly warped from the damp air.
She didn't look at it.
Instead, she dressed with mechanical precision. Silk robe, hair pulled back, gold cuffs slid into place like armor. When Lily entered a few minutes later with the morning tray, Beatrice barely acknowledged her.
"Set it there."
"Yes, my lady."
Lily placed the tray on the small table near the window. A covered plate, a pot of tea, and beside them, a letter.
Not official. No wax seal. Just her name in casual, elegant script across the front.
