Saphira

You're the duke's second daughter, and you're irritated.

All you wanted was to do was have a nice morning, but thanks to one of those grimy little servants, your plans have taken a turn for the worst. Your favorite gown is nowhere to be found, and you specifically ordered for it to be hung in your wardrobe. Whoever is responsible for this transgression will be found, and they will be swiftly punished.

"Brunhilde," you call out, catching the attention of your attendant. "Do you know what came of my turquoise gown? It was supposed to be returned to me today."

Brunhilde is an olive skinned woman, several years older than you. You vividly remember the day she was brought into the castle for you; it was your seventh birthday and she was just going into her adolescence. She has been by your side for most of your life, and she's one of your most trusted aides.

She's making your bed, as she does each morning when you ask the question. Brunhilde sets her hands on her hips, pausing in thought. "Last I heard, the maidservants took it to wash. Would you like me to check in with them?"

You shake your head. If anyone was going to deal with this situation, it was going to be you. "That won't be necessary. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, milady." Brunhilde curtsies to you and turns to leave the room. Your thoughts linger on her as she walks away, and you find your eyes glued to her trim waist and the way her hips sway back and forth with each step. She's a beautiful woman, and you can't help but wonder why she hasn't found a husband yet.

You snap out of your trance as soon as she turns the corner and leaves your line of sight. Your gown. Remember the gown, the thought finds it's way back into your mind and you're refilled with that dreadful irritation. First things first, you needed to find whoever dealt with laundry over the past few days.