Dinner was a silent affair that evening. Uncle Jarren was in a better mood, munching away at his food with a smile on his face.
Claire, who was doomed to always sit by his right hand, stabbed at her chicken.
She hadn't told her sister what happened between them - and she wasn't planning to.
"So… tell me how the meeting with the King went."
She and Arlan exchanged glances over the table.
"He wasn't displeased." Arlan said.
Her uncle glanced at her.
"Would he be coming?"
"No." Claire quickly said.
His gaze narrowed. "Interesting." He murmured.
Aurora ate quietly, her eyes planted solely at her food. No playful smiles directed at Arlan, no cheeky grins, nothing.
Tears stung Claire's eyes.
"The tradition demands that the engagement be done beneath a full moon. That means, you both have to learn the mate dance."
Claire winced. The mate dance wasn't something people learned. It came as naturally as breathing when bonded to your fated mate.
