Darik's chair remained empty with his plate of food barely touched.
Around the table, no one had resumed eating. Maelis rested her fingers on her closed fan, while Tavian watched the doors through which his brother had left.
Simon glanced at them too.
He had felt the killing intent directed at him.
Somehow, the boy had gone from disliking him to wanting him dead without Simon doing much of anything.
He found it rather amusing.
He hadn't struck Darik. He hadn't asked Seraya to slap him or Zarven to throw him out. He had simply answered a question about his age.
All Darik had to do was keep his mouth shut, and he would still be enjoying his dinner.
Apparently, that was too much to ask.
"Blackmoon."
Simon turned toward Zarven.
"I apologize for my son's behavior. You should not have been subjected to that in our home."
Simon waved a hand.
"It's not a problem, Lord Varn."
"Still, I'm sorry he treated you that way," Maelis said.
Her gaze lingered on his face.
