Yeara sat in the dining hall. The only sound in the quiet was the soft clinking of cutlery against her glass plate. She ate in silence, even though many thoughts were running through her head.
Why was she still thinking about that library?
She was wearing a sky-blue gown, the corset tight at her waist. The design of the gown was luxuriously perfect and foreign.
Her hair was let down, accompanied by a few curly strands in front and a beautiful pin to keep the little stylish braid in place. She looked even more elegant and sophisticated.
The maids were not outside the large dining hall, as Zalthor was not having dinner. They had been told to keep the queen company. They stood with heads bowed at the far end of the room, waiting for any command.
Yeara's hands paused, the spoon hovering near her lips, as her thoughts pulled her away from the food.
