The dining hall had quieted, but not in the way that came with silence.
It was the quiet that followed an unspoken shift. A shared glance. A moment everyone felt but no one named.
Elowen walked back toward the kitchen without a word, the faint swish of her cheongsam brushing against her thighs.
The soft click of her bare feet against the floor barely registered, but Ethan felt it anyway. The air in the room felt warmer again as she passed behind him.
He didn't turn.
He just listened.
The soft sound of a cabinet opening. Porcelain set onto a tray. The brief clink of a spoon touching a glass. The gentle pour of liquid was steady and practiced.
Even that had rhythm.
Then her steps returned, slower this time, more measured.
She came back with a tray holding a white ceramic teapot and a small stack of delicate plates, each one topped with a neat triangle of chestnut cake and a cluster of golden, honeyed berries.
There was no dramatic presentation, no words.
