It was late into the night, and despite everything, Lilian had enjoyed a surprisingly peaceful dinner. Or rather, she would have, if Caelan hadn't opened that infuriating mouth of his to remark that he was "feeding her properly so that she could fatten up and suit his taste."
The nerve of that man.
She retired to her chamber, where Clara was already waiting. The maid had helped her slip out of her gown and into her nightdress, the soft fabric cool against her skin after the warmth of the dining hall.
"Is My Lady truly leaving for the palace?" Clara asked gently as she began to comb Lilian's jet-black hair. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror, and Lilian's gaze remained thoughtful and distant. "There will be many important people there since it's the ceremony of remembrance. My Lady must feel nervous."
