There was a brief silence in the hall. Yeara's gaze was now fully on Zalthor as she watched him stare at her back.
She had thought about this, and she was very much curious about how Zalthor knew her name. If she was not mistaken—which she wasn't—she was very sure that she had been known as Yeara.
Her other name… it was limited to people who knew it. That had been before she was sent to the orphanage.
So how did he know it?
Zalthor lifted the glass cup to his lips, drinking with deliberate calmness. The soft gulp of liquid echoed through the quiet hall, a sound that made Yeara's heart beat unevenly. Slowly, he set the cup down and wiped his mouth, his gaze sharpening as he spoke.
His lips parted ever so slightly—but the push of the dining room door drew their attention. Yeara's head turned just in time to see Raymond enter, bowing his head as he approached. There was a flicker of nervousness in his movements; he had not meant to interrupt their dinner.
