They arrived at the dining hall—a long, ornate chamber with arched ceilings and gold-trimmed chandeliers. The table was already set. Silverware gleamed. Steam rose from bowls of freshly cooked meats, bread, fruit, and warm stew.
Varian nearly cried.
"Oh gods," he whispered, taking a seat. "This is what dreams taste like."
William nodded with big eyes. "I've never seen this much food... even in my imagination."
Moments later, Vexen entered gracefully, followed by the royal chef and a small procession of maids carrying trays. They laid the dishes out with practiced elegance—bowls of roasted vegetables, honey-glazed meats, and soft loaves of bread still warm from the oven.
Nyxtriel took the seat beside Daemon without hesitation.
Vexen watched.
She stepped forward with a courteous smile, "My lord," she said sweetly, "shouldn't your companion be seated further down? Traditionally, only nobles or family sit at the head of the table with royalty."
Daemon raised an eyebrow.
