The murmur of dozens of voices reached Eliza even before she crossed the enormous doors of the main dining hall.
For a moment, she stood motionless before them.
The imposing panels of centuries-old oak, reinforced with blackened iron and engraved with the ancient emblems of the Iron Blood Pack, stood wide open. From within, the warm glow of hundreds of candles suspended in enormous crystal chandeliers spilled outward, their light dancing across the polished black marble floor as though small golden constellations had descended to rest there.
She took a deep breath.
The scent was the first thing to envelop her.
Freshly baked bread.
Aromatic herbs.
Meat slow-cooked over embers.
Cinnamon.
Spiced wine.
The dining hall had always possessed that almost magical ability to make anyone feel at home. All it took was stepping through its doors to forget, even if only for a few minutes, the weight each person carried on their shoulders.
