The breakfast room looked nothing like what I had imagined. For one, because it was an entirely different room from where I had been led to last night, making me wonder just how big this mansion was, given that they seemed to have a different room for each meal of the day.
When Lyra had guided me down the long hall and pushed open the towering double doors, I’d expected something cavernous and cold, maybe a table long enough to seat an army, the kind of intimidating grandeur that would make me feel as small as I already felt last night. Instead, the table was large, yes, but intimate. Sunlight spilled in through tall windows, catching on crystal goblets and the silver trim of dishes that looked far too fine for me to even dare touch. There was food everywhere—baskets of bread, platters of
