The moment her boots hit the pristine white marble of the courtyard, Heena's eyes locked onto a middle-aged woman waiting at the base of the steps.
She wasn't dressed in the flashy, colorful silks of the concubines, nor was she dripping in heavy gold jewelry. Her attire was perfectly tailored, subdued, and devoid of excessive makeup. But the sheer quality of the fabric and the arrogant tilt of her chin instantly gave her identity away. She held the quiet, dangerous wealth of someone who wielded massive proxy power.
It was the Empress's right-hand nanny, the Head Maid of the inner palace.
The woman looked at Heena with completely dead, calculating eyes. She didn't offer a single smile. She simply gave a standard, stiff bow and said, "The Empress is calling for you."
Heena just gave a single, dismissive nod. She didn't bow back. She didn't even offer a verbal greeting.
