On the peak above the secluded training grounds, steam curled from a cup as one of his wives poured tea for him.
It was none other than Zenova.
The tea was pale and clear, the kind she favored when she did not intend to speak of war. Davis accepted it, blew once across the surface, and drank as though he deserved it. Myria had already left, staying by Evelynn and Isabella's side, who had come out to see but were by the mansion.
Stella and Tia were already forced to go out to discuss future plans of the continent and the sanctuary with the others.
The skies were dark, but a particular side of the mansion in the estate was bloodied, while every other place was silent, reacting to it as if it didn't exist.
Zenova set the pot down. Her voice was even, but the line of her mouth was not, as she pursed her lips and started.
