His Choice
The final of the platters had been removed, and the smell of roasted meats and honey bread still hung in the air. The large dining hall was subdued, though the heat of the meal hung on the air. Plates were bare, cups half-empty, but faces were radiant—smiling, laughing in small clusters of conversation.
Leon leaned back in his chair, golden eyes scanning the table. His wives and escorts shimmered in the pale morning light. Rias relaxed into her palm, scarlet eyes shining as she murmured something wicked to Syra, who almost gagged on her tea with laughter. Aria and Cynthia were sharing tranquil but teasing comments, their poise unruffled by the mayhem. Kyra attempted, with scant success, to scold her sister for pilfering food previously, receiving only another teasing smile.
