*Xelina*

The kettle boils over, hissing like it’s furious with me. I grab a cloth and yank it off the fire just in time to keep it from spilling across the coals. My fingers sting, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Mireth will be demanding her tea soon, and if it’s not steaming hot, on her tray exactly the way she likes it, she’ll dump the whole thing on the floor, make me clean it, and force me to make it all over again.

I pour the tea, steady as I can, then set the tray with the good porcelain I’m told to polish every week, just in...