The dining hall had never been so quiet with so many people in it.
The long table gleamed beneath the chandeliers. Silver caught the candlelight. The first course had been served, a clear broth of river fish with saffron and leeks, and the steam rising from six bowls was the only thing in the room that moved freely.
Ulrich sat at the head of the table.
Airam sat at his left, as she always did. Esther was beside her, as she always was, with Hermione next to her. Ceres had taken the seat, obviously, on Ulrich's right.
Mark was not there. He had taken his supper early with Fabian, then gone down to see to the carriage that would return him and Ceres to New Ruben before the roads darkened.
And at the far end of the table, in the chair that faced Ulrich directly down its whole length, sat Meera.
She had not asked for that seat.
