Aria was just about to ask what the blood tournament was when Zyren spoke again, casually lifting the fork he had been using to eat.
"You'll find out what it's about later," he said, his voice cool and dismissive.
Although the flippant answer made her stomach twist in frustration, Aria knew better than to argue—especially in the presence of so many watching eyes.
The oppressive presence of the lords and their slaves made everything worse.
Each collared neck, every vacant expression, all served to drain her resolve to speak drop by drop. The cold fear in front of Zyren they emitted was contagious, leeching into her bones until she could hardly think straight.
By the time she scraped the last remnants of food from her plate, Zyren had already stopped eating. He placed his fork down with finality, and the entire hall seemed to exhale in unison, servants and lords alike falling silent. It was clear that breakfast was over.
