In the servants' common room—a large open space near the lower kitchens that she'd seen on administrative maps but never physically visited—twenty or thirty off-duty staff were gathered in small clusters. Cards being played at one table. Mending at another. Three older women sharing something from a clay pot and talking with the comfortable rhythm of people who'd known each other for years. Two young men asleep on a bench, piled together like puppies.
Everything stopped when she appeared in the doorway.
Twenty-five people going absolutely rigid with the particular terror of lower palace staff who'd just been caught relaxing by someone with authority over their lives.
Elara stood in the doorway and looked at the frozen room.
"Continue," she said.
Nobody moved.
"I'm not inspecting. I'm walking through." She moved across the room toward the far door, taking the most direct path. "Continue what you were doing."
