Ravenna
The Queen's formal pack dinners were never actually about the food.
I had worked that out at the second one I attended after marrying Ryder. Every dish was excellent and almost no one truly tasted it. Every conversation was pleasant and most of it was dishonest. The table was a performance space, a place to demonstrate who you were, who you had aligned yourself with, who you were brave enough to be seen near, and who you were being very careful not to look at.
Tonight, my placement card was at the far end.
I found it when I came in, already there, already decided. Mine was pushed all the way to the last seats near the wall, beside pack elders I had never spoken to, far enough from the head of the table that I would have needed to raise my voice to be part of any conversation th
