ISKERA
There is a deadly standoff in the room, a silent war of wills between Vane and his father, and I hate being caught in the crossfire.
Unfortunately, there is no escape for me, nor for his mother, who looks as though she wishes to be anywhere but here. Even his sisters have long since stopped eating, settling for staring at the table and swallowing uncomfortably.
I wonder if this is a normal occurrence at their dinner table; I would hope so, if only because it would make me feel less responsible for the tension thick enough to choke on.
I manage a strained smile at Grace as she steps in with the dessert, perhaps trying to follow her usual timing. But even I know the smile is forced and not at all reassuring.
Grace, reading the room with practiced ease, doesn't even reach the table. She pivots the moment she takes in the situation and hurries back out, leaving me alone with the vultures.
