Daphne's POV
Fresh Omega servants entered the dining room.
Their movements were swift and practiced. They worked as if nothing had transpired moments before. As if blood wasn't still staining the floor by the entrance, as if the echoes of screaming hadn't just faded from the air.
The new maids placed dishes before us without meeting anyone's gaze. My plate held roasted vegetables alongside meat I couldn't identify. The aroma was inviting, rich and savory, completely at odds with the violence we'd just witnessed.
I lifted my fork.
Everyone else followed suit.
We began eating.
The quiet was absolute. Not the peaceful kind that comes with enjoying a meal. This silence had weight. It pressed against my ribs and made every small noise amplified. Each scrape of metal against porcelain. Each soft tap of glassware meeting the table. Someone's breathing came too quickly.
I raised my eyes briefly.
Just enough to survey the table without appearing to study them.
