As she carried her things up from the kitchen to the larger chambers meant for house servants, Tilda was unable to convince herself that she hadn't actually died this morning and that this day wasn't some personal hell. Legend had it that if a soul went to hell, the Dark One feasted on that souls body-which was actually a fairly accurate description of how she felt at that moment.<br/><br/>Mercifully, Raqiza had not come to see her, or to beat her-for her son's insistence. Though Tilda was grateful that she could not know what the woman was thinking. The thoughts were probably murderous.<br/><br/>Even still, Raqiza was the least of her troubles. Auguste had said he needed her. Well, someone like her but, who else was like her? And not only that he needed her, but that he wanted to be her friend. In the utmost secret of course. He at least had the excuse of amnesia to make him unaware of how much danger he was putting her in. Though, as she thought on it, she wouldn't have denied him his wish even of she had a choice.<br/><br/>She was still shaking her head as she entered the room that was to be hers. The first thing she noticed as she set her things on the floor was the beds. They were not thin mats studded with course hay, rather actual beds with pillows and thick blankets. The second thing she noticed was the vivid green dress on the bed. As a house servant Tilda was an example of the family who lived here. She was no longer someone who could make herself scarce by hiding in the kitchen. She would be on display.<br/><br/>The dress was fine than anything she had ever worn, deep emerald with gold stitching to match the house colors. Moreover it seemed to be made for her, judging by the way it gently yet flatteringly hugged her curves asshe slipped it over her head and laced the bodice. The neck was a little low and she had to tug on it to make it modest. Once she had done her best, despite a fair amount of her neck being shown, she started down at her hands.<br/><br/>They were workers hands, dirty and scarred and not at all fit for nobility. Shaking the negative thoughts away, she steeled her resolve and went in search of Auguste, who had said he would be in his room. Trying not to think of the implications, Tilda knocked softly on the door she knew was his