They did. The two or three maids that waited for their whacks from the paddle melted away, back into the blur of the servants’ crowd. It also cleared our way to the now angry woman.
‘Where the hell is a slave like Sloane when I need her?’ the woman muttered.
‘Excuse me,’ Nita said, too softly.
‘Goddam t***s, all their good for...’
Nita tried again, a little louder. ‘Ah, um, First Slave Francesca?’
‘What? WHAT!’
Nita quickly stood aside, making sure there was nothing between me and Francesca’s fury.
‘What the hell are you doing just standing there?’ Francesca demanded. ‘Don’t you have an assignment?’
‘She is a late arrival,’ Nita said.
‘Then grab a tray and move it. Arrange those crackers and cheese. They won’t serve themselves.’ Yes, that voice. I did know her, and not just from
