Dinner was supposed to be simple.
Food. Sit. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.
But with Marcus sitting two seats away and Ava lounging beside him like she was auditioning for a role as his next scandal, my appetite had vanishred the second I walked into the dining hall.
The table was small tonight, intimate.
Just the five of us, Me, marcus, Ayane, Lucas and Ava. No guards. No warriors. No bloody politics.
Just a long, polished taszble in the king's private dining room, warm lights hanging low from crystal fixtures, flickering over bowls of herbed potatoes, roasted meat, garlic butter rolls, and thick wine.
And yet all I could taste was tension.
