For the first time in weeks, there were no warnings from the sphere. No screams. No visions. Just dinner. Lucien set the last dish down with a flourish, some odd, roasted creature they’d found that, surprisingly, tasted like beef. The spice blend he’d somehow concocted from what they had on hand made Sethis give a satisfied grunt as he poured himself another drink. Ashar didn’t touch the wine. He rarely did. Tonight, they had someone else joining them. Kaine. He stepped into the hall cautiously, freshly bathed and dressed in clothes they’d left folded near his locked door earlier. He hadn’t fought the gesture. He’d just quietly accepted it.
“Figured,” Riven said casually as he leaned back in his seat, “if you’re going to stay, might as well break bread with the people you haven’t betrayed
