"Miss…"
I jumped straight up at the sound, my hands instinctively gripping the butter knife tighter, holding it like a weapon. My chest thudded, my breath coming quick and shallow.
"Oh my."
Eliza laughed softly, a little too amused to be comforting, and I realized several other maids had followed her in, each carrying red boxes that gleamed in the light. They moved silently, arranging the boxes on the table, stacking them with precision, almost ceremoniously.
"Did you have a nightmare? What's with the knife, miss?" Eliza asked gently.
I lowered my guard slightly, letting out a shaky sigh. My body ached from the restless sleep—or maybe from the constant anxiety that Jericho could appear at any moment. Last night had been worse than any nightmare. I had barely slept, fearing he'd come back and try something foolish again.
"I… I will run you a bath first," she added before I could respond, as if reading my frazzled thoughts.
