The midday meal was taken in the smaller refectory off the eastern cloister. Most of the planning group ate quickly and in near silence. The weight of the northern routes still sat on the table behind them, even though the maps had been rolled away.
Conversation stayed limited to practical things—whether the river fords would hold after the recent rains, how many spare mounts the stable could spare without weakening the southern patrols. No one lingered over the food.
Aiden and Elizabeth sat at the end of one of the long benches. They did not speak much at first. The simple fare—bread still warm from the morning ovens, a thin stew of root vegetables and dried meat, early autumn fruit that had begun to soften—went largely untouched between them.
Aiden broke a piece of bread and left it on the edge of his plate. Elizabeth stirred her stew once and set the spoon aside.
