Trying not to think about what they might be doing here, I started watching the watchers, making up stories for them in my mind—that woman was a newly raised noble, nervous to make certain she did her duty and retained her new status. That servant was old and trusted by the King, so could be rude if he chose.
On and on, until another man, much taller than most of the servants, and swathed in a long, brown robe with black markings, like David's advisor had worn the night before, came in to stand at the back of a cluster of other servants.
His hood was up and his face in the dark shadows of it. It looked very disturbing. Especially when he leaned back against the wall, facing us, then didn't move again. Watching us?
What a creeper.
But before I could make eyes at Ash to see if he knew who the pervert was, I was distracted by Mother Estow's quiet but firm words.
