Caira sat in the gazebo, staring straight ahead through the open sides. Even though purple hyacinths were in full bloom right in front of her, Caira could not see them. Her mind, much like the sky, was clouded. She couldn't concentrate on anything else.
A bird chirping called her attention, and Caira knew if she turned her head just slightly she would see it, but she had absolutely no urge to. She didn't know how long she had sat here—probably since breakfast was over. She also wasn't sure how much time had passed, and frankly, she didn't care.
Her tea had long gone cold, and Caira had already forgotten the taste of it. She could see Mara out of the corner of her eye; her maid's eyes were full of concern. She couldn't blame her. Caira knew she wasn't acting as usual, but how could she?
