The meal lasted longer than any of them admitted it would.
Vessa talked through half the courses and then went quiet once the wine hit, mostly because the princess answered just enough to keep her from inventing new rumors.
Riven ate like a man trying not to exist.
Gray ate, deflected, and gave the princess the same thin answers he had given her in Vhar'Zul.
She noticed, and grew annoyed, but strangely did not make a scene about it at the table.
By the time the last plates were cleared, Vessa was full, Riven looked even more tired than before, and the princess had learned nothing useful except that Gray still chewed more than he spoke.
They left through the side door this time.
The street had cooled down compared to before. Vessa stretched both arms over her head and groaned.
"If I die tonight, tell people it was the ribs. Not the princess... the ribs!"
"You are not dying," Riven stated.
"You are walking back to the inn before you invite anyone else to dinner."
