Eight
At exactly 8:00 PM, the banquet began. Nobles, warriors, council members, and some packmates had arrived.
I moved through the room, placing dishes onto the buffet table and standing behind it. The guests began serving themselves. Some of the noblewomen stared at the food as if expecting disappointment—some even had the audacity to ask for the former head cook.
A noblewoman wrinkled her nose as she ladled a small portion of stew onto her plate, eyeing it before moving down the table. Her friend took a slice of meat as if testing its worth. I didn’t let it bother me. They were the least of my worries, and I knew they would be back.
Minutes passed as I watched from my station. Then it happened—the first noblewoman leaned toward her companion, muttering something. They both rose from their chairs, and one by one, guests started returning to the buffet table, eager to eat more.
The same woman who had initially acted unimpressed filled her plate with more than she could carry. I looke
