We reached the dining hall doors, and I could already hear the murmur of voices from inside. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the doors open and stepped inside, bracing myself for whatever the evening might bring.
The dining hall was grand, as always long tapestries hanging from the high ceilings, flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over the dark wood of the table, and the faint scent of roasted meats and fresh bread filling the air.
It was all very familiar, yet there was an unmistakable tension in the room, one that wasn't entirely due to the grandeur of the setting.
At the far end of the table, my grandmother sat like a queen in her own right. Her silver hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and she wore a gown of deep burgundy that seemed to match the stern expression on her face.
