Meredith.
The dining hall was filled with the faint clatter of cutlery with everyone else minding their business and fixing their full attention on the food in their plate.
But my attention wad divided, between the food on my plate and Wanda.
It had been a surprise when I first saw her seated in her usual position at the table. I never thought she would show up given the fact on ground that Draven was sending her away tomorrow.
I thought she would be furious to the extent of sitting dinner out, but here she was, shoulders drawn inward, her usual poise completely diminished.
Wanda didn't even try to speak a word, and she hardly even lifted her gaze.
Every movement she made, the way she reached for her goblet, the way she cut into her food was tentative, as though she feared she might break something if she pressed too firmly.
I found myself staring at her more than once, studying her silently. She wasn't just quiet, she had shrunken in on herself.
