“Really?”
Sitting primly in her high-backed chair, Eliza faced him with a smile that should have put all of his doubts to rest. “You will, of course, have noted, during your studies, that Wilas Braynar went to Tarnadon a little over two hundred years ago.”
“I did take note of that, yes.”
“Melani is his distant granddaughter,” Eliza went on. “The records are, of course, incomplete, given the history of war between our two nations.”
“Naturally.”
Servants arrived to present the next course, bringing plates of buttered carrots, asparagus and a yellow vegetable that Melissa couldn’t identify. It kind of looked like squash, but not quite. They also offered a decent helping chicken in an orange sauce that tasted a lot like mangoes.
Melissa felt her muscles relaxing when it became clear that
