Esta set the tray in front of you, her gaze stuck to the ground. Perhaps she’d sweep after you left. Anything to pretend she wasn’t growing flustered by your presence.

“Your tea,” she said as calmly as she could. Even after all these years, she couldn’t manage her childish admiration for you. You were her employer’s cousin, a noble, someone far above her.

Virion—her employer and your cousin—would be out to greet you soon. Much as he complained about not wanting to be around anyone, he had always been close to you. Esta recalled the first time she’d seen you. Embarrassingly, she’d tripped over the bucket of dirty water she was using the mop the hall. You’d noticed, everyone had, and she had never wanted to run away screaming more.

Of course that was years ago. You were merely children then. She changed, you changed, her circumstances changed. Before her mother’s accident, she had allowed herself to dream of marrying someone and having a family. Now she hadn’t the time for it. Between working for Virion to raise money in order to care for her mother, and then caring for her mother, Esta didn’t have time for dreams or a family.

She stood a foot away from you, waiting for any other requests. Sometimes she wished you’d been rude to her, if only so she could rid herself of whatever she felt for you. But no, during the handful of conversations you had with her, you were polite. She was charmed, smitten even.

“I remembered the tea you asked for last time,” Esta found herself saying. “Though I could not remember if you preferred milk or honey in it.”

A lie. Of course she remembered. Had she any talent for the arts, she was sure she’d be able to paint your face perfectly. It was an excuse to talk to you.

Hoping her face wasn’t too pink, she looked at you from beneath her lashes with a shy smile.