The dining room at the Archduke's manor smelled of leather and wood. But the most noticeable part about it was the pale walls, decorated with many paintings that told tales about de Lanark's centuries-old heritage.
Following Adela's instruction to keep the lighting soft tonight, the Majordomo discarded the mana-powered chandelier that hovered above the middle part of the oval table and went with the bronze circuit wall candleholders that emitted an ambient glow in the spacious room.
She could not have predicted the heated conversations this dinner would entertain, otherwise, she would have gone with the chandelier.
Gone was the shy boy who followed her around with eyes that thirsted for a drop of reassurance, Adela was just beginning to understand the man Claude de Lanark had become.