"Your foresight is truly unmatched, my lady," Charlotte said with practiced grace, bowing her head low, her voice laced with admiration that bordered on reverence.
Yvaine Emberlyn did not smile. Her gaze sharpened instead, cool and deliberate, as though already several steps ahead of everyone else.
"Go and contact the two men my father left in my charge," she instructed, her tone calm but leaving no room for disobedience. "Have them wait at the charity hall tomorrow. I will meet them there and give my orders personally."
Charlotte straightened at once, her posture obedient and precise. "As you command, my lady."
The following morning dawned pale and quiet.
Just after Caelith Emberlyn had finished her breakfast, while the last traces of steam still curled faintly from her tea, a senior maid from Old Madam Valehart's household arrived at her courtyard.
Her expression was solemn, her steps measured.
"The Old Madam requests your presence in the main hall."
