The dining hall of the new lodge was a grand space, but tonight it felt like a tomb.
The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and expensive wine, but for Aria, it was suffocating.
She stood in her usual place, positioned like a piece of furniture behind Elena’s chair.
Her feet ached from a day of endless errands, and a strange, cold sweat was beginning to prickle at the nape of her neck.
She watched the back of Liam’s head. He sat at the head of the table, his posture as rigid as a soldier on the front lines.
He was eating in that mechanical way he always did but now it was more slow, precise, and utterly devoid of joy.
He hadn't looked at her since he walked through the door.
Elena, however, was in a rare, talkative mood.
She took a delicate bite of her food, her silver
