The five of them turned around so fast their linen baskets knocked together. Mira was standing in the shadow of the archway, her arms full of fresh bedding from the imperial rooms, her face set in what she clearly hoped was a severe expression.
"Some of us have actual work to do before the bells ring," she said, her eyes moving over each of their faces.
"Instead of standing in the passage like a flock of geese, discussing the private affairs of the master of the house."
The girls went quiet, their cheeks turning pink. But before they could move away, Mira's mouth gave a tiny, helpless twitch at the corner.
"Though if you really must know," she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, "he had the cooks send up three separate plates of roast fowl last night because she said she did not know what her stomach wanted, and he was afraid she would go to sleep without her supper."
The girls giggled again, but then the third one leaned forward, her eyes bright with mischief.
