Thalia approached the high table, her heart pounding despite the strange calmness that had settled over her after that dream.
“Good evening,” she said, keeping her voice soft and her head slightly bowed. Years of being an omega had taught her how to make herself seem smaller and less threatening.
She sat in the empty chair between Rebecca and someone else, a female warrior, very aware of how trapped she was between them. Rebecca on her left, the woman who’d beaten her hours ago. The woman on her right, the tall warrior who watched her with open curiosity.
The table was laden with food. Roasted boar with crispy skin glistening in the torchlight. Honey cakes stacked in towers. Fresh bread still steaming, butter melting in small pots beside them. Vegetables cooked in herbs she could smell
