Just as Rosemund was about to respond to Aire's snapped response with more sarcasm, she heard footsteps and straightened up more than what looked possible. It didn't seem like he'd noticed the Queen's approach, but she could hear it from a mile away and it made her blood run cold. As a servant, she was well aware of Her Highness's reputation, and she was not about to risk her head by being insolent in front of her. When she entered, she averted her eyes and pointed her head at the floor, barely able to control her own trembling. She'd had nightmares of being executed because she had been unable to keep her mouth shut.

She was having trouble keeping her mouth shut right now, especially. Her face went from a scared pale to an angry red in a matter of moments, and she bit her lip to keep from being smart. [i]It isn't worth it,[/i] she told herself. [i]It isn't worth it. She isn't worth it.[/i] She took some pride in her hair. It wasn't beautiful, no, but it wasn't horrible either. At least, that was how she saw it. And what was she supposed to do? Hair never looked that great in a net! Did she [i]want[/i] to see fiery-red strands in dinner? But thankfully, Rosemund managed to keep quiet. 

As the Queen turned to leave, she carefully raised her gaze again, looking briefly at Aire. Any respect she'd gained had evaporated; there was no sarcasm, no defiance now, just anger. She turned away again and went back to peeling the potatoes. This time it was with quick furious strokes. She nicked a finger and acknowledged it only by wiping the cut on her apron. Damn royals. Damn inbred royals, she thought furiously.