The food arrived shortly after.
Veyra stared at the table for a moment.
There was more food than she had expected.
Roasted meat, vegetables cooked with herbs, warm bread, and several smaller dishes she couldn’t quite identify.
She picked up her fork and began eating.
Eryndor said nothing.
Neither did she.
For a while, the only sound in the room was the faint clink of silverware against porcelain.
Veyra ate quietly, taking small portions from the dishes that seemed easiest to swallow.
She left the firmer pieces untouched, moving instead to the softer food beside them.
She didn’t seem particularly bothered by anything.
She simply ate.
Slowly.
Eryndor’s gaze drifted toward her plate.
Then back to his own.
A few moments passed.
He looked at her again.
She had barely eaten a third of what he had.
“Are you waiting for something?”
Veyra looked up.
“For what?”
“The poison.”
Her hand stopped.
Eryndor’s mouth curved slightly.
“You’ve been inspecting your food since it arrived.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have.” He looked at her…
Slightly bored
She looked back at her plate.
“I’m just being careful.”
“There is no poison.”
“I-I know.”
The answer came too quickly.
A brief silence followed.
Veyra lowered her eyes and continued eating.
Eryndor let it go.
At least for the moment.
He returned to his meal, though his attention occasionally drifted back to her.
She was still eating in the same peculiar manner.
Small bite.
Pause.
Swallow.
Another bite.
Eryndor tried to return his attention to his meal.
He failed.
Another slow bite.
Another pause.
Another careful swallow.
His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
He exhaled through his nose and lowered his fork.
Apparently, eating in peace was too much to ask for.
Nothing about her expression suggested disgust.
If anything, she looked completely accustomed to it.
Eventually, Eryndor set his fork down.
“Is the food not to your liking?”
Veyra looked at him.
“No.”
“Then?”
“It’s fine.”
“If you want something else, say so.”
He gestured toward the table.
“I can have the cooks prepare it.”
“No.
It’s good.”
Eryndor studied her for a moment.
At least, not exactly.
She genuinely didn’t seem to dislike the food.
That only made her behavior more peculiar.
His eyes returned to her plate.
‘Should I just stuff her mouth like a squirrel and be done with this?’
He noticed something else.
She had avoided several dishes entirely.
Not the ones that looked unappealing.
The opposite.
She had left some of the most richly prepared food untouched while repeatedly returning to the simpler dishes.
He said nothing.
Instead, he reached for one of the smaller plates.
He glanced at it briefly before looking at her.
“Too sour?”
Veyra barely looked up.
“Yes.”
Eryndor paused.
His eyes moved to the dish.
Then back to her.
He took a bite.
He chewed slowly.
Nothing.
He took another.
Then another.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Veyra finally looked up.
Eryndor looked at the dish again, amusement now unmistakable in his eyes.
“I think sourness is to my taste.”
Veyra blinked.
He laughed under his breath.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her fork.
Eryndor didn’t press her.
He simply returned to his meal.
But his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer.
She had answered too quickly.
And the dish wasn’t sour.
Not even slightly.
His gaze lowered to her plate once more.
The way she chose her food.
The small bites.
The slow swallowing.
The fact that she seemed neither pleased nor displeased by any particular flavor.
He had assumed she was being cautious.
Then he had assumed she disliked the food.
Neither explanation fit.
Eryndor leaned back in his chair with a slight frown that vanished quickly
‘can she even taste food ?’
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
By the time they finished eating, the dishes had been reduced to little more than crumbs and empty plates.
Veyra leaned back slightly, feeling the heaviness of a full stomach.
She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been.
Across from her, Eryndor set his fork down.
He looked just as satisfied with the meal.
The servants entered shortly afterward, quietly clearing the table.
Plates, cups, and utensils disappeared one by one until nothing remained between them.
Veyra watched them work for a moment before turning her attention back to Eryndor.
Before either of them could speak, the doors opened.
A guard stepped inside and bowed.
“Your Majesty.”
Eryndor looked up.
“The council has assembled.
They are waiting for your presence.”
Eryndor’s expression immediately became more serious.
“Understood.”
The guard bowed again and stepped aside.
Eryndor rose from his seat.
“Come.”
Veyra stood as well. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
She followed him toward the doors.
The council was already assembled when Eryndor entered.
Veyra followed a step behind him.
The conversations that had filled the chamber moments before faded as the doors closed behind them.
Eryndor took his place at the head of the table.
Veyra remained standing nearby.
She said nothing.
Her attention moved lazily across the room, never lingering long enough to suggest that she was studying anyone in particular.
She had learned enough by now to know that talking would only cause her problems.
So she listened.
“Your Majesty,” one of the councilors began, rising from his seat.
“The latest report has arrived.”
Eryndor’s expression sharpened.
“The scouts?”
“Yes.”
He gestured for him to continue.
“There are seven of them.
They’ve remained near the eastern border for three days now.”
Veyra’s eyes moved briefly toward the speaker.
‘Eastern border?’
She stored the words away.
“Have they crossed it?”
“No.
They have been careful not to.”
“How far from the border?”
“Less than a day’s journey.”
Eryndor’s fingers rested against the arm of his chair.
“And they still haven’t noticed our patrols?”
“They may have noticed something.
They have changed their route twice.”
A quiet silence settled over the room.
“Do we know where they came from?”
The councilor shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Then why are we still discussing them?”
No one answered immediately.
Eryndor’s gaze swept across the table.
“Who governs that region?”
A man seated near the right side of the table straightened.
“House Vaelor is the nearest one to them, Your Majesty.”
Veyra’s eyes shifted toward him for only a moment.
Another name.
Another piece of information.
Eryndor looked at the man.
“How many men can they deploy?”
“Enough to handle seven intruders without difficulty.”
“Then they will.”
The man bowed.
“Understood.”
Eryndor’s voice remained even.
“I want them captured alive.”
The councilor nodded.
“If they resist?”
“Subdue them.”
“And if they cannot be subdued, kill them.”
Eryndor’s expression hardened.
The room went quiet.
“But not before you make every effort to keep one alive.”
The councilor looked up.
“One?”
“At least one.”
Eryndor leaned back.
“If they die before we learn who sent them, we gain nothing.”
His gaze moved across the council.
“I want to know which kingdom they came from, why they entered our territory, and what they were looking for.”