CHAPTER 47
The next morning, the long dining hall was quiet except for the faint clicking of utensils and the occasional soft rustle of a page turning—or in Kael's case, the smooth swipe of his fingers across the glass of the slim device in his hand. He sat at the far end of the polished table, leaning back to his chair. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, few stray hairs touching his brows. A steaming cup of black coffee rested within reach, its rich aroma drifting across the space.
