The royal dining hall felt small next to the throne room, with only half of the long table's twelve seats taken.
Candles at even spaces threw their light back off polished wood, off silver dishes somebody had arranged with a ruler.
Hajin sat beside Juna, who had said nothing since the door, her tail wound tight around one leg under the chair.
Across from them Didi sat between the Queen and a young prince nobody had introduced.
The boy was twelve at most, with the sharp eyes of his father and none of the weight behind them, so he kept sneaking looks at the ears across the table before finding something urgent about his plate.
The King had the head of the table with his posture deliberately loose, which did nothing at all to make a formal breakfast feel casual.
Steam came off the porridge at every seat, honey pooling over berries while the silence went on getting worse.
