The grand dining room of the Carson estate was a picture of a formal, sunlit elegance. Amber was setting the long, polished table herself, instructing the maids with a gentle but firm authority as they followed her lead.
"No, Martha, the smaller silver forks are for the dessert course; they go at the top," she corrected a young maid. "And the water goblets should be placed just above the knives." She moved a vase of white roses to the very center of the table. "Perfect."
Lyra walked in, her expression tired and drawn. She saw the elaborate preparations, the feast being brought in from the kitchens, and the sheer number of place settings. "What is the occasion, Amber?" she asked, her voice flat.
Amber smiled, a bright, hopeful expression on her face. "Nothing, Mama. Just a family lunch."
