Guinevere had spent twenty years believing her origin story was boring. Turns out it was a high-budget clusterfuck with a covered-up affair, a blood contract, and a family with more skeletons than a graveyard.
Lord Solandris, also known as Edward and Grandfather dearest, raised his hand lazily, halfway up. The tent cleared immediately, leaving only the people at the table and the weight of what was about to happen next.
RULE 28: Eyes drop first, mouth opens first. Every goddamn time. Shut the fuck up and wait. The next words out of their mouth are always a confession.
Edward Solandris rotated his glass between his fingers, studying Guinevere.
She met his gaze unflinching. If he was hoping for a reaction to the grandfather bit, he wasn't going to get one. Her emotions were floating somewhere off in the distance and the strategist version of herself was out.
Two seconds.
Five seconds. Seven.
