The following morning broke lazily, the sunlight spilling golden through the sheer curtains that drifted with the faint breeze. The villa courtyard smelled faintly of oranges and roses, carried from the garden, but the heavier fragrance of wine and sweat still lingered in the air from the night's revels.
Amara moved quietly, her steps measured, the silver tray balanced effortlessly in her hands.
Behind her, two other servants followed, each carrying platters stacked with roasted bread, fresh figs, goat cheese, and a steaming pot of spiced tea.
She led them out to the open patio where Coral and Cherry were waiting.
Cherry, already awake and looking radiant despite the decadence of the night before, lounged against a cushioned seat with her hair brushed into sleek perfection.
A silk robe of deep burgundy wrapped around her, sliding loosely over one bare shoulder.
