AYASHA'S POV
The servants came for us just before sunset. Their faces were carefully blank, but I caught the way their eyes darted between us, like they were trying to memorize which of us would still be breathing in two days.
"Dinner is served," one of them announced, though her voice wavered on the words.
The dining hall felt different tonight. The long table that had seated seven women for a few days now seemed to stretch endlessly between us. Each chair might as well have been an island. The usual chatter that filled our meal the first time had died completely, replaced by the soft clink of silverware against porcelain and the occasional scrape of a chair.
I picked at the roasted meat on my plate, my stomach too twisted to handle much food. The sauce was rich and well-seasoned, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. Every bite felt like swallowing sand.
