Loreen's POV
They walked in silence toward the dining hall, their steps echoing softly along the corridor.
As he reached the hall, the flicker of candlelight reflected off the polished floors, casting long shadows. He expected it to be empty, and for the most part, it was.
The long tables stood bare, the chairs tucked neatly under them. For a moment, a sense of calm washed over him. He could eat in peace, think, and retreat afterward to his quarters.
Loreen reached for the chair and pulled it out.
Then he stopped.
At the far end of the table, seated calmly as if she had been waiting for him all along, was Greta.
Loreen's jaw tightened at once. For a brief moment, he thought of turning around and walking straight out.
He did not want to deal with this.
Not tonight.
Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Marsden, who stood near the door like he always did.
Loreen's gaze sharpened.
Marsden looked away.
