Only once the slave had stepped outside did the arctic blue gaze of the Princess lay on Dina, serving her a tranquil gentle smile before showing her back as she paced to a decorated seat.
“Orteu’s daughter. The name is…?”
“It is Dina Orteu, Princess of Herklain.”
“Dina… Well, Dina. Tell me.” — As if it had been Dina herself who had requested a meeting with Dorothea, the woman confidently said as a sly flutter of her gaze observed the whole figure of the baron’s daughter. — “How can you be of my use?”
“…? Pardon? Was I not summoned by yourself?”
“Yes. So tell me. Tell me about yourself. The baron you are daughter to… who I reckon has not come to the palace even as it is no less than the King’s invitation to a feast that also celebrates one that was from your household.”
“…..”
“Tell me. Also about that one that is now Archduchess… You may also tell me about why your demeanour is this disastrous. I am willing to listen to anything as long it is interesting.”