The dining hall at seven held its usual Sunday evening population, lighter than weekday dinners, the specific atmosphere of a meal eaten by people who knew the next morning would bring the resumption of the regular schedule and were, in various ways, making peace with that.
William had sent word earlier in the day — not urgent, not alarming, simply a request that Liam, Marcus, Sara, Mira, Thomas, and Lin meet him and Seraphina and Kai at a specific table after dinner, when the hall had thinned. He hadn't said why. He'd trusted, correctly, that the request itself would be enough.
They gathered at eight-fifteen, the dining hall mostly empty by then, the serving stations closed, the specific hush of a large room transitioning out of its primary function.
William looked at the table — at the people who had assembled because he'd asked them to, without explanation, on a Sunday evening.
