The scent of roasted meats and sweetbread hung in the air of the breakfast hall.
A gentle hum of quiet conversation echoed between the high wooden beams as the morning sun bled lazily through the stained-glass windows.
Xaden sat at the head of the table, a faint shadow under his eyes, his bandaged arm resting stiffly on the armrest beside him. His appetite was small, but he forced himself to eat.
Jasmine wasn't here, and her absence ached like a phantom limb.
Anna sat beside him, delicately slicing her fruit like a lady at court, hiding the feverish anticipation brewing beneath her skin.
Fiona and Lily were quietly eating near the end of the long table.
Tension hovered in the room—nobody spoke of it, but they all felt it. They were waiting.
"Xaden eat." Anna insisted finally breaking the pregnant silent.
He snapped out of his thoughts and smiled.
"You need to eat to recover before you go out fighting again." She said. "You promised."
"I know." He said.
