I'm not a true maid, I'm easily exhausted
Isabelle. Was. Exhausted.
Not because of her fun little side quest with Octavian - that was thrilling, but not exhausting.
Instead, she'd been somehow drafted into actually doing her 'job' as a maid much of the day, instead of simply having a short spying session.
Her legs were sore.
Her arms were sore.
For some reason her face was sore.
She laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
The bed was comfortable.
So soft and fluffy.
She couldn't really remember undressing from her maid disguise and redressing in her more familiar empress clothes, but it must have happened at some point, since she'd made it back to her room and she wasn't still in that disguise.
Snowball approached her.
She knew this because he gave a raspy little squeak with every step, as if he were telling her about his day as he trotted over to her from across the room.