Chapter 11; Lifting The Shroud

Whatever bond I thought Valen and I had forged over our shared ordeal with the Algoths seemed to have vanished into thin air.

As we sat around the dining table for dinner, a heavy silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the clinking of utensils against porcelain. Valen brooded, his mood palpable even in the dim candlelight. I couldn't fathom what was weighing on his mind, but I dared not disturb his thoughts with idle conversation. Rhaenan, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts, his expression unreadable as he picked at his food.

The revelation that there were indeed people bustling about the mansion had left me feeling hyper-aware of my surroundings. I found myself stealing glances at various places in the mansion and imagining what some folks might be doing there. I stare at the food, now burying my previous assumption that there was no cook and everything materialized at the snap of Valen's fingers.

My gaze drifted across the table to Valen, who sat in stony silence, his attenti