My mother moved between the table and the hearth, setting down platters with habitual grace. The scent of roasted meatloaf filled the air, rich and savory, followed by the sweetness of warm fruit crumble dusted with sugar, cinnamon, and spice. My favorites.
I had a feeling she’d made them on purpose. To try to calm me down.
It might have worked if I weren’t so rattled from last night.
I hadn’t slept a wink. And it was obvious.
All day, I’d walked around like a ghoul.
For dinner, I tried to make myself look presentable in one of my finest dresses and gathered my hair back into a neat ponytail, but I looked like I’d been dragged through all six hells and then some.
“Eat while it’s hot.” Mother smiled gently, spooning a generous portion onto my plate. Her smile was more careful with me, though, the kind she wore when she was trying not to let worry show.
Across from me, Thayden sat straight-backed and composed, already cutting into his meal as if he belonged here. As if healwayshad.
He wore dark formal leathers despite the intimacy of the setting, his presence commanding without effort. When he glanced at me, his expression softened, but the firmness still lingered in his eyes.
I gave him a weak smile—it was the best I could muster.
Emabelle was beside me, close enough that our elbows brushed. She picked at her food, eyes downcast, shoulders tense. She had not spoken since we sat down, and that alone set my nerves on edge. Emabelle never stayed quiet for long.
Grandmother sat at the head of the table, hands folded and eyes sharp as they tracked every movement.
I’d wanted to speak to her about the dream that wasn’t a dream, but Thayden had been circling like a vulture, never leaving the room long enough or far enough for me to have a private conversation.
I didn’t even want to think about what he’d say or do if he heard us having a conversation about magic, let alone me feeling like I’d had some sort of out-of-body experience.
Thayden believed my powers were bound, like every magic-born person in the mortal lands.
He knew I cast a spell to find my father. But he only knew because my family wouldn’t have been able to explain away the sigil on my wrist.
Gods, I hated this.
The secrets. The lies. The suffocating discomfort.
I hated all of it. Everyone was on edge. And I felt like my brain was going to implode.
“This turned out well,” Thayden said, nodding toward the platter, then looking at Mother. “You’ve outdone yourself again.”
My mother inclined her head, pleased despite herself. “It’s Elariya’s favorite.”
I flinched at the sound of my name, though no one else seemed to notice.
“Thanks, Mother.” I gave her a gentle smile.
Thayden returned his gaze to me. “You’ve always had a fondness for comfort food.”
I loathed at ease he sounded. He’d spoken as if we’d shared meals like this in the past. Maybe we had.
Mother took her seat at last, smoothing her apron before folding her hands in her lap. “The market’s been lively this week,” she said lightly. “More traders passing through than usual. I suppose people are stocking up.”
“Before prices increase,” Grandmother added, glancing toward the window, where sunlight caught in the glass. “Everyone is restless during this time of uncertainty.”
“I suppose so.” Mother nodded, her mouth tightening just a fraction.
“Nothing ever balances when power shifts,” Grandmother murmured.
“It won’t be so bad,” Thayden said in a hearty voice. “Prince Maelor will make a fine king. People just panic because they fear change.”
