Nevara
Sabrina arrived just before seven, right on time as always, her knock soft but firm against my door. When I opened it, she gave me a smile that looked suspiciously like she knew something I didn’t.
“I’m here to escort you to dinner,” she said, folding her hands politely in front of her. “The king has asked that I bring you to his office.”
I blinked. “His office?”
“You requested something smaller, quieter. He often takes meals there when he wants to avoid the grand hall.”
That made sense. I hadn’t really thought about what the alternative would be when I’d vetoed the dining hall. I just knew I didn’t want to sit in a room designed to echo with formality and cold silverware clinks. I wanted something simple. Private.
I followed Sabrina through the halls, the castle quieter than
