Eve stretched, raising the washcloth in her hand in the air. She could feel a yawn coming as her eyes scrunched in the process. She glanced toward the window, trying to see through its textured glass. The golden hour was fast ending while patches of snow clouds were gathering around the castle, issuing a warning for an oncoming storm.
She stood up from the floor with a grunt, walking over to the few kerosene lamps that were in the room. She was careful to draw the curtains close as she started to light them up one by one with a long matchstick- one that she bet cost a fortune to procure.
With the last one lit, she blew out the matchstick, staring at the object for a good few seconds. It reminded her of St Yvon and the poverty she had spent her entire life in. She had seen the box once or twice when she had sneaked into the Cavanough's mansion unnoticed, to spend time with the young lord who she had then thought to be her future husband.
