The room he had chosen was much smaller and darker than the great hall where the women usually ate.
He was already there when the woman in gray brought her to the door. She did not follow her through it.
He did not stand. A man would have stood. A monster with a conscience would have at least tried to mimic the shape of the gesture. But he only sat, his eyes pinning her to the air as she walked, making her feel every inch of the ghost she had dressed herself to be.
He sat with the stillness that was his alone, one hand loose around the stem of a glass he was not drinking, and he watched her come.
She thought the dress would make her invisible, but she was wrong. The way she had been wrong about many things lately.
Under his eyes, the pale silk did not hide her. It did the opposit
