The weight of the wet bedsheets always left Wina's shoulders aching after a few hours of work, but today, she barely noticed the strain.
The courtyard behind the servant quarters was thick with the scent of damp wool and soap. Wina stood before the long lines, her hands moving almost on their own as she lifted a massive linen sheet and pinned it to the cord.
The snap of the fabric catching the breeze was a familiar, comforting sound. The breeze caught the sheet with a sharp snap, as predictable as the morning itself.
She reached for another pin when the hurried whispers of two older maids by the stone archway reached her ears. They were stacking empty wash tubs as they talked.
"So the rumors were true. They're really coming!"
"For the peace treaty?" the second maid asked, her voice dropping into a bitter, hollow scoff. "What's the use of a treaty now? After everything that's already happened? After all the lives that were lost?"
