Melody carefully dusted Izaak's desk, ensuring every corner was spotless. When she reached the last drawer, she hesitated, then opened it cautiously. Inside were old letters, yellowed with age, from a time before she was even born. Dust covered them, and she wondered why Izaak had kept them all these years.
"These must be His Highness' private, important letters to someone," Melody whispered, her curiosity piqued.
"They're from his late wives," Zerah said, his voice breaking the silence in the study. He had been quietly observing her. "Don't open that drawer ever again. It's meant to stay closed," he asserted firmly.
"Oh. I'm sorry," Melody said quickly, closing the drawer and standing up, the duster clutched in her hand.
"You shouldn't be cleaning anymore. You're no longer a servant," Zerah reminded her as he methodically stacked documents on the desk.
