Lyanna
I haven't forgotten who I'm dealing with, he has the most cunning strategies in the world. He never behaves the way I expect him to. We eat in silence, the salty meat hits my tastebuds.
"How do you feel?" I lower the glass from my mouth so I can look at him. A question, one that seems so innocent but knowing him it was calculated. When I don't reply, Silas lifts the knife from the tray. With meticulous precision, he begins to cut two even portions of the pie, the scent of apples fills the air.
"Why are you here?" I asked rather than answering his question,
"This is my home," he shrugs, smirking.
"I meant my quarters." His black eyes skim over my neck. "Would you rather I wasn't," he rests his arm on the chair, eyes gleaming.
"I'm not sure," I finish the reminding food on my plate, unable to enjoy the taste with him watching.