It wasn't long before Beatrice brought something a little heavier than refreshments. It was a feast fit for any noble, but R'lissea requested some simple broth for me. It wasn't as if I minded, as even the tantalizing smells of the cut of savory roast did little to tease my appetite.
As Beatrice and her granddaughter collected dishes after the meal, the old maid frowned at me.
"You hardly touched your stew! No wonder you're so thin," she said, poking my arm.
I winced at the bony jab, then stiffened. The starlight emanating from my skin curled around her hand, and Beatrice's eyes shot wide open. Adaptive Resistance burned in my soul, leaking out of my control. Stars flooded her irises.
"Beatrice?" Rosarie jumped to her feet, staring at her grandmother with wide eyes.
