"I..I'm..." She stuttered out the beginnings of an apology but was cut short by Raqiza's cruel scream. Straightening her back, she turned to face The Lady, her eyes contrite and cast down. Not that it would save her. The hand connecting with her cheek caused sharp tears to well in her eyes because of the pain.<br/><br/>Yelping as a boot found her backside, Tilda scurried from the room-leaving the tea service behind. When she found her chambers, she found they were empty. Krysta and Dell must have been pounding bread for the evening meal. Their straw filled mats were made neatly, in sharp contrast to Tilda's little corner which was unkept and littered with scraps of paper on which she had written the beginnings of countless stories.<br/><br/>She stood at the small table where the only other dress she owned hung, still damp from being washed that morning. There was a small mirror on the table, grimy and covered in soot but sufficient for checking the  braid in her hair in the morning. As she looked at herself, she rested her fingers gently on the bright red welt that The Lady's hand had left. It was hard to believe the woman who just slapped her was the same one who had read to her as a child.<br/><br/><br/>For the second time that day, tears sprang into her eyes, and Tilda nervously wrung her hands. This was getting ridiculous. First Auguste in the library, searching her face for answers. Then Jon's blatant flirtations which were more forward than usual. And why had her hands trembled so badly when serving tea? Tilda was known for being calm, resolute in all things. the Kitchen Head-Brunhilde, often praised her for it, so why was she so undone today? Not that the answer mattered now, she would surely be made to suffer for her stupidity.<br/><br/><br/>It was well known that Raqiza could be harsh. None of the servants went out of their way to invoke her wrath-except Tilda when she snuck into the library. The thought caused the girl to smile grimly. It was unlikely she would be doing that again any time soon. And yet she had, hundreds of times. Each one a direct defiance to the woman who had once been kind but now was cold and heartless. There was no point in that defiance stopping now. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she resolved to meet Raqiza eye to eye, even if it jeopardized her very safety.