In the heavy silence of the palace dining hall where long oak tables gleamed under flickering candles and spiced wine hung untouched.
Lumina sat rigid at the head, her plate untouched as her hands trembled on the linen cloth, with her knuckles white.
The poison still burned low in her veins, but it was nothing compared to the fire in her chest.
She couldn't stay or touch Ashen , the worst part is that she couldn't even breathe the same air without risking the voice in his head winning.
The separation clawed at her worse than any days without his arms around her, nights without his low voice murmuring against her skin. She was boiling, raging, frustrated to the point of tears she refused to shed.
She stared at the food as though it had betrayed her.
"Has Ashen eaten?" she asked, voice flat but edged.
