Artemis leaned forward, voice low and grave. "Lolita, your staff deserve decent rooms in this castle." Kacy threaded between chairs, balancing a bin of empty glasses, every clink echoing the unspoken tension.
Lolita shrugged. "I'm not giving up my private offices."
"Lolita, you never used them. You're just making up excuses. Why don't you relocate your staff to better rooms in the castle?" Artemis asked.
"It's not as if you live here," Lolita shot back, narrowing her eyes. "How would you know what gets used?"
"I hear it straight from the servants. Two tattered blankets and moldy walls aren't a home—they're a sentence."
Lolita took a deliberate sip of wine, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. "I can't store my valuables down there. Mold would ruin everything."
Artemis pressed on. "You're providing a roof over their heads, yes—but basic comfort? Heat? Privacy? That's your responsibility, too."
A flush crept up Lolita's neck. "They have nothing to complain about."
Kacy's chest tightened. She set down the bin, hands trembling. Nothing to complain about? she thought. The cold seeped through the concrete each night. The mold made her skin crawl. Two blankets did nothing against the winter chill.
As Artemis opened his mouth to reply, Kacy quietly turned and slipped from the boardroom. The heavy door closed behind her with a soft click. She exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping, and made her way back through the castle's winding corridors towards the warmth of the kitchen—where at least, steam rose from pots and the hearth crackled with fire.