Rakshasa was sprawled across one of the armchairs in her private sitting room, one leg draped over the armrest and her head resting against her hand. She had tried reading, then meditating, and eventually gave up on both. Nothing had managed to hold her attention for long since returning from seeing Victor.
Her butler stood a few meters behind her, reviewing a list of matters concerning the castle while pretending not to notice the irritated sigh she let out every few minutes.
"My Lady, I'm certain Young Master Victor will invite you to the gala," he said after the fourth sigh. "There are still a few days before the event."
Rakshasa turned her face toward him.
"I know."
"Then I see no reason for concern."
"I'm not concerned."
"Naturally."
Rakshasa narrowed her eyes.
The butler continued reading the list as though he had noticed nothing.
She released another sigh, even louder this time, and sank deeper into the chair.
The problem was not really the gala itself.
