The Great Hall was a cavern of shadows and gold.
Torches flickered in iron sconces along the walls, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe like trapped spirits. The table in the center of the room was massive, carved from a single slab of black oak, and laden with roasted meats, glistening fruits, and crystal goblets filled with dark red wine.
Elena sat at the right hand of the Prophet.
She felt exposed. The dress Caleb had chosen for her was a weapon in itself. It was made of spun gold, a fabric so sheer it clung to her every curve like a second skin. It left her back bare to the waist and dipped low in the front, offering a tantalizing view of the swell of her breasts. When she moved, the fabric shimmered, catching the torchlight, making her look like a trapped goddess.
