Steam, Silence, and Shadows Between Them
The door eased open with a soft creak, and the two men turned instinctively.
A maid stepped inside—quiet, composed, pushing a polished trolley set with a silver teapot, delicate porcelain cups, and a small arrangement of dried herbs arranged neatly in a wooden tray.
She bowed the moment she crossed the threshold.
"Forgive the interruption, Young Master, Your Majesty."
Victor gave a small nod. Ben returned a polite one, though his eyes softened the way they always did around palace staff.
The maid guided the trolley toward the low table beside them. Each movement was precise, practiced, almost graceful. She unpacked the small set with careful hands: the teapot placed centrally, the cups to either side, sugar crystals in a narrow glass jar, a tiny spoon resting perfectly atop a folded cloth.
She poured the steaming tea into both cups without spilling a drop. The soft trickling sound filled the room for a moment—gentle, warm, grounding.
