Rain spotted the tome he was earlier looking into, now shut close atop the cassone's surface, his big palm pressed over its hardcover forcefully.
Aware he must be glaring at her, she fixed her gaze to the slapped close book. "Do I really have…?" She made to protest to his irrelevant blasts and superfluous affirmations, but was immediately interjected.
"Do you think that you, a mere servant, are in a position to question me?" He snickered and uncrossed his legs; "Perhaps, you should refrain from thinking so highly of yourself and best get used to being an enslaved servant and not a cosseted Princess. Otherwise, I'm afraid you will dislike my method of inculcating manners."
Before long, Rain resignedly conceded. "Yes, Sire," her feathery voice resounded softly.
