Chapter 259

Dinner that night had been too quiet.

Even the candles burned lower than usual, their flames thin and pale, as if wary of what lingered in the air.

The tension wasn’t visible — no one dared to speak of it aloud — but it threaded through the hall like a current under still water.

Dante sat at the head of the table, his expression calm, kingly, unreadable. His presence filled the room effortlessly.