Angel's POV
Breakfast was a spectacle.
Not in the elegant, refined way that noble gatherings were supposed to be. More in the way a battlefield might be considered a spectacle - chaotic, occasionally horrifying, impossible to look away from.
It started innocently enough.
Servants brought out trays of food - fresh bread, pastries, eggs prepared in ways I'd never seen, fruits that looked like they'd been harvested by angels specifically for this table. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl.
But I barely tasted any of it.
Because I was too busy watching the war happening directly across from me.
Lyra and Sera, seated on either side of Lord Merrick like bookends, had apparently decided that breakfast was the perfect time to engage in whatever this was.
"Lord Merrick," Lyra said, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal, "I was admiring the tapestries in the corridor this morning. The craftsmanship is extraordinary. Do you know the history behind them?"
