I sit down, quickly noting the names of the women nearest me. The older woman on my immediate left is Aunt Olivia, Vega's aunt on his father's side. The matriarch at the head of the table is Amelia.
The others are mostly his cousins, except for the young woman who was just sizing me up. She is Mia Larsen, from a wealthy family with close ties to the Vastanos.
Mia is already back to glaring at me like she wants to burn holes into my skin. Why she's so intent on my destruction, I can't fathom, but I decide to ignore her.
I pick up a teacup and take a small, bracing sip of black tea.
Aunt Olivia speaks first, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Tell us, Tyr, how did you two meet? I mean, you aren't exactly his type." The condescension in her tone is unmistakable, but I'm not offended. I've heard worse in a sparring ring.
"Really?" I ask, leaning in slightly, sounding genuinely curious. "What is his usual type?"
