Chapter 9: [Family Dinner]
The dining hall smelled faintly of lavender, silver polish, and unresolved childhood trauma.
Kael sat in his designated chair—too straight, too formal, like a guest in someone else’s skin. Which, to be fair, he was.
The polished cutlery glinted back at him, arranged with surgical precision. Beside him, Selene stood rigid and ghost-pale, still not fully recovered from the whole "I’m not who you think I am" revelation.
He could still hear her scream echoing in his skull. His ears were ringing. Or maybe that was just trauma bonding.
The double doors swung open.
First, came the Duke. A man carved from stone and disapproval. His gaze swept over Kael like one might assess an undercooked meal—still edible, but disappointing.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded, coldly, and took his seat with the gravity of a man who ran duchies, crushed rebellions, and probably bench-pressed guilt.
Then the Duchess. She arrived like perfume and expectations—soft on the outside, iron on the inside. She spared Kael a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then spent twice as long staring lovingly at the empty chair beside her.
The one meant for him.
And then, the door opened again—and he entered.
Veyran Drenlor.