FIA
I stood slowly, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess them.
"I do not think so."
The room shifted. Every head turned toward me. The elders. Father and stepmother. The strange woman and man. Even the sentinels by the door straightened, their attention pulled in my direction.
My father's voice cut through the sudden quiet. "Fia."
It was a sharp warning. But the man didn't have that kind of power ovee me anymore.
I didn't look at him. My eyes stayed locked on the lead elder's face. On the furrow between his brows. On the way his mouth had pressed into a thin line.
"Milo's family would be here today," I said. My voice carried farther than I expected. Steadier. "But they feared for their lives."
The whispers started immediately. Low murmurs that rippled through the room like wind through grass.
My father stood. I felt the movement more than saw it. The scrape of his chair. The rustle of fabric.
"Fia," he said again.
I kept my gaze forward.
