The carriage rattled along, jolting Petura and the Lady of Wenshau over every gully and log. Petura set her teeth and wondered why her brothers had not seen fit to maintain the highways. There were two of them, were there not? Shouldn’t they be able to accomplish twice the work?
Petura looked into the dark eyes, hoping to find a friend there, but the maid dropped her eyes under Petura’s stare.
Her moves were not as graceful as Tansy’s, and she had a way of squaring her shoulders that was almost warlike, but she could never be mistaken for a kitchen drudge or a common peasant girl.
Rila’s lip curled back in a mixture of scorn and pleasure. “Practice, my lady,” she corrected with a measure of pride.
Calene’s smooth hands reached out and closed around Petura’s. “I’m not making you do this, Petura,” he said softly. “If you don’t want to stay, I will have Lady Estelle take you back to Preden tomorrow.” His eyes upturned to hers with a wistful look. “But..."
He took a swig of his drink and then glanced at Peturah, seeming to notice her confusion. “I’m not a morning person,” he grumbled, by way of explanation.
Droben pursed his lips – whether from disdain or an attempt to not laugh, Peturah was not sure.
“Good morning, Petura,” Calene said, a pained look on his face over his brother’s manners. “How did you sleep?”
Peturah lifted her chin. Her blustery brother did not scare her. “My tutors were as competent as your own, in spite of the different location,” she retorted.
Droben snorted and rose from the table as well. “Keep your eyes open, little sister,” he murmured, throwing his napkin down and stalking out of the room.