Chapter 13 – Tension at the Table
1118 Words
Dinner at the Darvesh estate was rarely a simple affair. Even the clatter of cutlery felt rehearsed, as if the entire household had learned to move in quiet reverence—or fear—of its master.
Tonight, however, the silence was thicker than usual.
Seraphina sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, her posture perfect, her smile carefully measured. Across from her, Kael spoke little, his expression unreadable as servants moved swiftly between them, pouring wine and placing dishes neither seemed to taste.
After what had happened in the locked room, Seraphina had expected coldness, but not this freezing void. He hadn’t spoken a single unnecessary word to her all day, and that absence burned worse than his anger.
At least anger was something she could understand.
“Lady Seraphina,” said Lord Erian, Kael’s advisor, breaking the uneasy quiet. “You must try the pheasant. It was prepared under Lord Kael’s own instructions.”
Her fork hovered. She offered a polite smile. “Then I’m sure it’s perfect.”
Kael’s gaze lifted briefly at the sound of her voice, the faintest flicker of irritation—or was it warning?—in his dark eyes.
Erian, either oblivious or deliberately reckless, continued. “I must say, my lady, the estate has been livelier since your arrival. The staff speak of your kindness often.”
“Kindness costs nothing,” she replied softly.
Kael’s knife scraped against his plate, the sound sharp and deliberate. “It’s easily mistaken for weakness,” he said, his tone calm but edged.
Her chest tightened. “I suppose that depends on the eyes of the beholder.”
Their eyes met then, the weight of unspoken resentment pulling the air taut between them. The rest of the table shifted uncomfortably.
Erian cleared his throat. “Indeed, but compassion can be strength as well—”
“Enough,” Kael said quietly. The single word carried more threat than a shout.
Erian froze, color draining from his face. The servants exchanged nervous glances, pretending to busy themselves.
Seraphina set down her glass with care. “You asked for honesty in this house,” she said, her voice steady. “But when it’s given, you silence it.”
His gaze sharpened. “Do you truly wish to challenge me in front of my men?”
“I don’t wish to challenge you at all,” she said, though the tremor beneath her words betrayed her. “But I won’t be a ghost in my own life, Kael.”
For a moment, the only sound was the faint ticking of the clock above the hearth. Then Kael leaned back in his chair, studying her as though she were a puzzle that refused to fit.
“Ghosts,” he said slowly, “at least know when to stay quiet.”
Her hand clenched beneath the tablecloth. He wants me silent. But she’d spent too many nights swallowed by silence—first under her family’s debts, now under his power.
A servant entered then, announcing dessert, his hands trembling as he set down a silver tray. The sweet scent of honey and spice filled the air, but appetite had long fled the room.
“Tell me,” Kael said suddenly, his tone deceptively mild, “what did you think of the west wing before I locked it again?”
The spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against her plate. Every pair of eyes darted toward her.
Her voice caught. “I—”
Erian blinked in confusion. “The west wing? My lord, I thought—”
“You thought correctly,” Kael said without looking away from her. “No one enters it. Yet somehow, my wife found her way in.”
The blood drained from her face. She could feel the weight of the room closing in on her, the servants frozen mid-motion.
“I was looking for the library,” she said carefully. “I must have wandered too far.”
Kael’s lips curved, but it was not a smile. “A convenient mistake.”
Erian rose slightly. “Perhaps this discussion—”
“Sit down,” Kael commanded, his tone turning glacial.
Seraphina forced herself to meet his eyes. “You warned me not to question you. You never said I couldn’t seek understanding.”
“Understanding?” He stood, his chair scraping the floor. “You think you can understand what you don’t even have the courage to name?”
Her heart thudded painfully. “Then tell me! Tell me who she is, Kael—Liora!”
Gasps rippled around the table. Erian’s jaw fell open; the servants froze like statues.
For a heartbeat, Kael didn’t move. Then, very slowly, he walked around the table toward her. Each step echoed in the hollow silence.
When he reached her side, he leaned down, his voice a dangerous whisper meant for her alone. “You dare speak that name in my house?”
Seraphina’s breath shook. “It’s already here, Kael. It’s in every shadow. You can’t erase her by locking a door.”
His hand slammed down on the table beside her plate, the sound cracking through the air. The dishes rattled; the servants flinched.
“Leave us,” he said without raising his voice.
In seconds, the room emptied. Only the two of them remained.
He straightened, his chest rising and falling with the effort to stay calm. “You want to know about Liora?” he said finally. “Fine. She was the reason this house became a tomb. She was the reason I learned never to trust a beautiful face with soft words. And now you walk those same halls, touching things that were hers as if they belong to you.”
Seraphina swallowed hard. “I’m not her.”
“No,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’re not. But you remind me too much of what I lost.”
He turned away, his shoulders tense, his voice thick with something she couldn’t name. “Dinner is over.”
But Seraphina didn’t move. “Kael—”
“Go,” he said again, softer this time.
She stood slowly, her knees trembling. As she reached the door, she paused. “If you keep punishing the present for the ghosts of your past, you’ll never be free of them.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look back.
When she was gone, Kael sank back into his chair, staring at the untouched plates before him. The faint echo of her words lingered in the room long after her footsteps faded.
And for the first time in years, the Beast felt something dangerously close to doubt.
- Writer
