Three maids huddled near a table, their aprons smudged, their voices low but dripping with juicy gossip. Mara, the loudest, leaned forward, her curly hair escaping her cap, her hands slicing an imaginary spell in the air. "I'm tellin' you, Casey's a witch," she whispered, her voice sharp, eyes wide. "The way she walks, all quiet-like, slippin' through shadows? Ain't natural."
"Oh, come on," Lila said, her voice teasing, tossing a carrot peel into a bucket, her round cheeks flushed from the hearth's heat. "But you're right, nobody knows her roots. Showed up outta nowhere, and now she's got a fancy room? Pfft, witchcraft."
"And Lily!" piped up Tessa, the youngest, her braid swinging as she leaned in, her knife pausing over a potato. "No father, not a whisper of one. You think Casey… conjured her?" She giggled, her eyes glinting, mimicking a spell with her fingers.
