8
Lysithea entered the dining hall the following morning, her head fuzzy from a sleepless night. Her spirits sank as she beheld the two men seated for breakfast. Terran, his face expressionless, was polishing off the last of his plate while Gray’s meal remained largely untouched—a clear sign he had been the only one attempting conversation, with Terran ignoring him in favor of eating.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cardas,” Gray called out in a chipper tone.
Terran’s voice was far less enthusiastic.
“I shall bring you a plate, Lizzy.”
Lysithea almost slipped up and asked who Lizzy was, but she caught herself just in time. As soon as she sat beside him, Terran made a show of feigned consideration by rising from his seat and departing to retrieve her food. Suddenly left with an empty chair beside her, she let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Mr. Cardas seems to be in a foul mood this morning.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “He is not exactly a morning person.”
