“Yes, I think so,” I said and braced my hands against the tabletop as she let me go and went to drag one of the chairs back for me.
As soon as I was seated, she leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Enjoy,” and then several people entered the room.
One of them, a footman I thought, picked up a plate from one of the sideboards and began moving down the table, taking slices from the various meat platters and adding them. When it waspiled high, he brought it to me and replaced the empty plate in front of me with the full one.
The savory fragrances rising from it made my mouth water, though I’d eaten plenty for breakfast and luncheon.
“Thank you,” I said and received a nod in return.
A different server repeated the process with vegetables and salads, moving down the table and spooning out a portion from each serving dish then delivering the overflowing plate to me and setting it to the side of the one in front of me.
“Thank you so much. I couldn’t possibly eat any more than this,” I said, but another footman was already at work filling a soup bowl from the tureen at the table’s center and loading a bread plate with several different kinds of rolls and bread slices.
The abundance surrounding me was astounding, and the choices were almost paralyzing.
So was the prospect of eating while being watched so carefully.
Each of the servants went to stand in a spot along the wall, but they kept their eyes on me, seeming poised and ready to meet any need that might arise.
“You can go now,” I said awkwardly. “Thank you, but I won’t be needing anything else. I doubt if I’ll ever need to eat again after this meal.”
None of them moved. Each man held his position, staying silent.
That was until the heavy double doors at the far end of the dining room opened, and Pharis stepped inside.
Chapter 4
Dining with the Devil
Raewyn
Like me, Pharis was dressed in fine dinner attire.
His version of dressing for dinner included a black shirt and breeches under a black tailcoat embroidered with gold thread in an intricate pattern that carried over to his waistcoat.
His raven hair hung loose and straight tonight, and his olive-toned skin was flawless under the candlelight.
It was a travesty how Elven men could look so angelic on the outside while being so devilish inside.
The three footmen snapped into action, one of the men going to pull out Pharis’ chair for him while another filled his glass with wine.
The other bowed and placed silverware in front of him then asked, “What may I put on your plate, My Prince?”
As he was seated at the other end of the table, I couldn’t make out his answer, but the servant got to work, filling Pharis’ plate with his selections.
Clearly they were all terrified of him the way Kem was and presumably the healer as well.
I didn’t blame them. I’d hate to be in the employ of a cruel and powerful Elven prince who cared about nothing and no one but himself.
Pharis hadn’t spoken to me yet or even looked at me.
Though I hadn’t expected to be sharing a meal with him, he must have expected me here. He must have at least seen me.
Was he planning to give me the silent treatment as well as ordering his entire staff to?
When the footmen had retreated to their positions along the walls, he finally looked up and made eye contact.
That unearthly blue-green gaze of his was bright, even at this distance. He added a smile to it, completing the dazzling effect, but when he spoke his tone was blasé.
