Light from the fireplace nearby reflected on the table containing a decent array of food.
Selena was on her third bowl of hot soup, color finally returning to her pale cheeks.
"Remember when I wrote in my last letter that Silas has completely lost his mind," she said, setting her spoon down with a soft clatter.
"Yeah." I nodded.
"Well, he seems to find new ways of sinking further into the 'cuckoo-land.' " She heaved. "After his recent defeat at your border, he stopped attending the morning war assemblies altogether. He spends his days locked in his quarters, drinking and tearing up old maps of the territory. The servants say he barely sleeps."
Diego leaned back in his high-backed chair, his broad arm draped casually over the back of mine.
"And Alexander?" he asked, taking a slow sip
