The dining room hadn't changed.
Long table. Dark wood. Too many chairs for too few people. The chandelier was original — her great-grandfather had brought it back from Valoria, or so the story went. Nobody had verified it. Nobody questioned the stories in this house. The light pooled on the table, catching the silver. Outside, the hedges were overgrown. The fountain had been dry for years.
Joyce sat near Evelyn's end of the table. Yosef took the chair across from her. Julian slid in beside his mother, and Gio settled at the far end. Quiet. Watching. The way he always did.
Franz pulled out a chair for Arianne. She sat. He took the seat next to her.
Evelyn lowered herself into the chair at the head of the table. Slow. Not weak — just slow. The kind of slow that made everyone else wait.
Soup came. Pale green. Arianne picked up her spoon. Put it down. Didn't taste it.
Joyce talked.
