Heather let out a tired sigh. She bent down to pick Alex up, hugging him close even though she still smelled like raw egg. The scent clung to her coat, to her hair, to her skin—but he didn't pull away.
He did wrinkle his nose, though.
She could only laugh faintly as she carried him a few steps. He was warm and soft, and for a moment it almost distracted her from the sour stickiness drying on her skin.
But her arms ached more than they should've. She set him down gently, smoothing his curls.
"I need a shower," she said under her breath, mostly to herself.
From the side of the courtyard, Amaranth had risen from the shade. She leaned slightly against one of the brick pillars, arms folded—not sternly, but like someone who had been there a while and wasn't in a hurry to leave.
Heather noticed the maids, too. The two of them stood nearby with quiet poise, their hands folded neatly in front of them.
It seemed like everyone had been waiting.
