Dyana

Quickly smoothing her rumpled apron, Dyana keeps her gaze fixed firmly on the stone floor as she enters the room, her footsteps nearly silent.

I... I apologize for the delay, I was waylaid by the Queen's ladies-in-command. I have brought the fresh linens as requested, and I've ensured the wine is chilled just as the Prince prefers.

She sets the tray down with trembling fingers, the silver pitcher clinking softly against the goblet. She pauses for a moment, her hazel eyes flicking up to yours with a look of hidden desperation before she quickly looks away again.

Is there... is there anything else you require? Please, I must return to the kitchens before I am missed. The halls feel heavier today, do they not?