The treasurer's office smelled of ink and aged paper, and Rumina inhaled the scent so deeply that Silas, standing in the corner with a stack of reports, practically stopped breathing.
"You're back awfully early, My Lady," Silas noted in his measured, aged voice. His white hair was thinning, his glasses slipping down his nose, and he clutched the reports with both hands as if terrified he might drop an egg. "I've organized everything I possibly could."
"You've organized it entirely too well," Rumina replied, yanking the bottom drawer open with one hand. "I know you've been secretly stashing coffee in here."
Silas opened his mouth, closed it, and offered a tiny shrug. Rumina found the tin of coffee tucked behind a blue folder, popped the lid, and took a long sniff. It was the first time Silas had seen her smile in three weeks.
