Lorelei

The silence at the dining table was a living thing, breathing between the spaces where conversation should have been. I sat in the seat reserved for me—beside Nikolai’s chair, at the head of the table, the place of honor that felt more like a cage than a throne—and tried to pretend that I didn't notice. Tried to pretend that the absence of sound didn't press against my ears like water, thick and suffocating.

The servers moved around me with practiced efficiency, placing a plate ...