Rather Not Be At The Banquet

Viscountess Blackshield stared at the sight before her as she listened to Asher's words. 

It was almost a childish thing to do something like this in front of her, stacking glasses when one wrong move could lead to everything shattering in front of them.

The mess would be something hard for the servants to take care of, and yet Asher's words and acts somehow managed to get a hold of Viscountess Blackshield's mind.

The image of her son, as a baby, playing with building blocks flashed through her head. 

A memory of simpler times where she held her son and soon slowly watched him grow up little by little, holding his hand in hers. They coursed through her mind like an all too familiar melody.

It was something that made her heart ache once again.