The morning of the Entrance Banquet broke not with fanfare, but with tension—tight and expectant, like the breath held before a blade meets bone. Dawnlight spilled through the windows of the dining hall in gentle waves, brushing across fresh linen, silver cutlery, and untouched platters of fruit and spice-glazed bread. Everything had been set early. Immaculate. Waiting.
They came one by one.
Caeden first, as always. Crisp, upright, quiet. He moved with the kind of discipline bred from noble courts and dueling halls, though his gaze flicked once toward the high windows like even he wasn't immune to the day's weight.
Elayne arrived second, hair already half-tied, her presence composed but not cold. She nodded to Caeden silently, seating herself at the end of the table, eyes scanning the room as though checking for invisible threads that might have moved overnight.
