"Talia… the skewers today are amazing."
Medusa sat cross-legged in her private chamber, her fingers still sticky with the spiced glaze of the roasted meat.
Before her stood Talia, a young maid with soft brown hair pulled into a bun.
The maid should have been trembling.
She should have been silent, careful, afraid — like all the others who ever served the Tyrant Empress.
But Talia smiled.
It wasn't the kind of smile people forced to appease her, nor the nervous curl of lips from someone who wanted to keep their head attached to their neck.
No — Talia's smile was warm.
It was genuine.
Medusa blinked at her, unnerved.
'Why does she look at me like that? Doesn't she know I could crush her with a thought? And yet…'
There was no faking in that smile.
It was pure.
"My lady, the people would be surprised if they saw their tyrant like this," Talia teased with a soft giggle.
Medusa pouted, shoving another bite of skewer into her mouth. "Mean woman."
