Amelia's POV...
The food tasted like nothing.
I chewed anyway. Swallowed anyway. Smiled anyway.
The roasted lamb might as well have been cardboard. The wine—a vintage I usually savored, a Bordeaux that cost more than most people's monthly salaries—burned going down without leaving any warmth behind. I cut another piece. Lifted it to my mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Smiled.
Across the table, Camilla picked at her plate like a bird, pushing food around, never actually eating. A piece of lamb there. A roasted carrot there. Nothing ever reached her mouth. Her eyes kept flicking to Lucian, then to me, then back to her plate. Guilty. Nervous.
Like she knew she didn't belong here. Like she was waiting for me to snap.
