Zyren nodded his head with casual authority, his fingers making a lazy flick as he gestured for the servants to begin serving the food.
It was at that precise moment that Aria summoned every ounce of control she possessed to stop her body from betraying her—because if her heart pounded any harder, it might very well give her away.
The sensation in her chest was erratic, like a caged animal crashing against her ribs, desperate to escape.
She focused her gaze, sharp and unwavering, on the servant approaching her side to dish out her food, her lips parting just slightly to instruct him in a calm, measured voice. But that wasn't where her true attention lay.
Her mind, her breath, her very being, was anchored to the servant who was stepping forward with a gold-rimmed jug—Zyren's wine.
