Elysia sat in the garden, feeling as though time had slowed to a crawl. The air was still, the silence heavy. She glanced at her watch—eight o’clock. Her stomach gave an audible protest. The last thing she’d eaten was before leaving Arkendale early that morning.
Goddess, why do they eat so late here?
With a resigned sigh, she returned to her chamber, straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and checked the clock again— finally 8:45. Perfect.
She made her way to the dining hall, expecting the clink of silverware and warm scents of food. Instead, the hall was nearly deserted. The long table sat bare, and only a few maids bustled about, clearing and wiping it down.
Approaching one of them, Elysia asked, “Hello, I was told dinner would be served at nine?”
The maid paused, smiling polite
