Elysia stepped into the dining room with the quiet hesitation of someone walking into a room already filled with arguments not yet spoken aloud.
The doors closed behind her with a muted thud. The air inside was warm, thick with spice and roasted meat, the low golden light from the chandeliers reflecting off polished obsidian walls.
The room was grand—far too much so for the five people it could comfortably seat. But tonight, only three places were filled.
Her eyes immediately found the one face that made the tension loosen around her spine.
Malvoria.
Seated at the long end of the table, angled slightly toward the door, as though she'd been waiting. She had changed.
She wore dark crimson tonight, the collar of her coat unbuttoned just enough to suggest comfort, not carelessness. Her braid had been redone, tighter than it had been earlier, and her gloves were tucked into the side of her belt.
But it was her eyes that made something shift in Elysia's chest.
