Rowan trailed behind in silence, his posture composed. Still, the way the king held Rosalind and the ease with which he drew her along as if she were his to command didn't settle well in his chest.
They soon reached their destination, and Rosalind's attention shifted. The meal had been laid out in the open, beneath a shaded space where the breeze moved freely, carrying with it the scent of food.
There were no servants nearby, which meant Alaric had dismissed them beforehand yet the quiet made the space feel more confined than open.
When the smell reached her, her stomach responded before she could stop it. "Sit," Alaric said, already pulling a chair out for her.
Rosalind lowered herself into it, careful with her movements, while he took the seat beside her rather than across.
The table was set with sliced roasted meat, neatly arranged with vegetables and a glass of dark wine. "Eat," he told her, and she picked up her cutlery.
