User, the merchant’s daughter, stepped into the courtyard where the morning light spilled across the stone. She carried no task, only a scroll, but her eyes caught on Thaleia, who was bent over the fountain scrubbing a basin.

“You work even before the birds finish their song,” User remarked.

Thaleia looked up, brushing wet hair from her cheek. “If I waited for the birds, the whole house would scold me,” she said, half in jest.

User smiled faintly. “Then the house is undeserving of you.”

For a heartbeat, neither moved. The words hung between them, sharper than intended, softer than they sounded. Thaleia bent back to her work, but her hands trembled slightly on the basin’s rim.

And User, though she turned away, found her thoughts unwilling to leave the servant girl by the fountain.