Isolde

The great hall was quieter than the courtyard, and the air in the hall was tense. We sat at the long oak table, and the maids had added more firewood to heat the room. Cedric sat to the right of my father, and I was tucked away at the far end, feeling the weight of my sisters’ glares from across the table. I looked everywhere else but at them.

For a while, the only sound was the clinking of silverware. My father cleared his throat, leaning toward Cedric with a forced smile.

“I ...