SELENEA’S POV
The dining hall was quiet, far too quiet for my liking. The only sounds were the faint clink of silverware against ceramic plates and the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. The air was thick with tension, the kind you could almost taste. Lukas sat across from me, his gaze fixed on the plate in front of him, though I knew he wasn’t seeing it. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw tight—he hadn’t said a word since we sat down.
Not that I’d been any better.
My eyes darted to Callan, who sat beside Lukas, his expression a mixture of curiosity and unease. He wasn’t stupid; he could feel the tension radiating between us. I forced myself to look down at my own plate, but the food sat untouched. My appetite had disappeared the moment Lukas walked into the room.
He was impossible
