Lyra's POV
When we entered the dining room, every seat was occupied except for the ones meant for us. The kind of crowded that made you feel like you'd missed something important, even when you hadn't.
Benedict commanded the head of the table with perfect posture, hands positioned precisely, wearing an expression of practiced composure that fooled no one who knew him well. Seraphina hunched beside him, shoulders drawn inward like she could fold herself away from the morning sunlight streaming through the massive windows. Rowena sat opposite, cradled around a steaming mug, radiating an alertness that seemed impossible for this hour.
Her eyes found us immediately.
She examined me with deliberate slowness, her gaze lingering on the oversized shirt draped across my frame before returning to study my face. The smile that spread across her lips was calculated and knowing, like she'd already solved a puzzle and found the answer entertaining.
