Chapter 40 CHAPTER 40
It felt strange to sit at a table that wasn’t empty.
For years, Ethan’s dinners had been quiet routines - silver plates, neat servings, and silence so deep it seemed alive. Tonight that silence was gone. Laughter filled the high-ceilinged hall, soft and bright, touching every shadow.
The long table gleamed under warm lights. Steam rose from dishes of roasted meat and seasoned vegetables, and the air carried the scent of baked bread and wine.
Across from him, Cindy sat straight, carefully cutting her food into small pieces before tasting them. Her hands moved with cautious grace, as though afraid to disturb the moment. Every few seconds, she looked up at him again, checking that he was real.
Beside her, Isabel was already halfway through her second plate. She talked as she ate, her fork moving with unbothered rhythm, her laughter spilling through the room like music.
Ethan reached for his glass, turning it slowly in his hand before taking a sip. He hadn’t realized how empty his meals had been until now. Watching the two of them eat, hearing the soft sounds of family at the table again, eased something in his chest.
“It feels strange,” Cindy said softly, pausing to rest her fork. “Eating here with you. It feels like a dream. The Hale’s never let me sit at the table. But now It just feels so…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for words.
Ethan smiled, setting his glass down. “I know what you mean. I used to eat here alone and tell myself it was peaceful. But it was just quiet.”
“Do you always eat alone?” she asked, picking up her knife again but not looking at her plate.
“Most nights,” he said. He speared a piece of roasted carrot before continuing. “Sometimes Liam joins me if I drag him away from the training yard. But since our parents and…. you, it’s been quiet.”
Her eyes softened. She took a sip from her glass before saying, “Then I’m glad it’s not quiet tonight.”
“So am I.”
The silence that followed was warm, not heavy. Ethan sliced into his food again, the simple act grounding him more than he expected.
Isabel broke the pause with a grin, waving her fork. “Well, this has been the best day of my life. But Liam promised to give us a tour and then disappeared. I think he was scared I’d talk too much.”
Ethan laughed - a real laugh, low and surprised - as he reached for his napkin. “Did he now? I’ll remind him tomorrow. A promise made in my name is still a king’s promise.”
“Good,” Isabel said, pointing her fork at him. “Because I plan to collect.”
Cindy’s laughter joined hers, soft and bright. She cut another small bite from her meal and chewed thoughtfully. Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that sound in this hall.
“You were gone all day,” Cindy said, setting her fork down. “We didn’t see you even once.”
“Council meetings,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “Then I went to the training field. The warriors are working hard for the season’s trials.”
She hesitated, tracing the rim of her plate with one finger. “Did they ask about me?”
He gave her a calm smile. “They did. They’re eager to meet you soon.”
She nodded, pushing her food gently around her plate. “That’s a relief. I was worried I’d cause problems for you.”
“You never could.”
Her smile grew shy. She lifted her glass, pretending to focus on it. “And Isabel? Are they okay with her staying here?”
Ethan turned to Isabel, who was busy buttering another slice of bread. “They’re grateful,” he said. “They know you helped bring their princess home.”
Isabel froze mid-motion, then grinned. “So I’m an honored guest now?”
“Something like that,” Ethan said, amused. He took another sip of wine. “Though the kitchens have orders to keep the pantry full, so I suppose that makes you special.”
“That’s all I ever wanted from royalty,” she said with mock pride, taking an exaggerated bite of bread.
Cindy shook her head, laughing. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it,” Isabel said, raising her glass.
Ethan watched them, his fork idle for a moment. The warmth between them filled every corner of the room. For him, it was like watching color return to an old painting.
After a few minutes, Cindy spoke again. “Do you remember me? From before?”
Ethan’s voice turned gentle as he cut another small piece of meat. “Every bit. You were small and stubborn. You used to follow me everywhere, even into the stables. Father said we were inseparable.”
She smiled faintly, pushing her plate aside. “I wish I could remember that.”
“That’s all right,” he said. “We’ll make new memories.”
Her eyes shone. For a heartbeat, Ethan almost reached across the table to take her hand, but instead he lifted his glass, taking another slow drink. Kings weren’t supposed to look fragile.
Isabel cleared her throat and set down her fork. “Then we start tomorrow, with that tour Liam owes us.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t give up easily.”
“I call it determination.”
“Careful,” Cindy teased, picking at the last bite on her plate. “He might assign you to kitchen duty.”
“I’d take it,” Isabel said, grinning. “At least I’d be near the food.”
Their laughter filled the hall again, mingling with the clink of dishes as a server quietly cleared the empty plates. Ethan leaned back slightly, savoring the sound, committing it to memory.
When the last of the dishes were gone, and the servants slipped away, Ethan stood and offered his arm to Cindy. “It’s late. You should rest.”
She hesitated, wiping her mouth with her napkin before rising. “Will you join us for breakfast?”
“If the council gives me a morning off.”
“Then I’ll ask them myself,” she said, smiling.
He chuckled. “You do that.”
As the girls walked out, Isabel whispered something that made Cindy laugh until she covered her mouth. Ethan stood watching them go, their laughter fading down the corridor.
When they were gone, the hall felt different again - quieter, but not empty. He sat back down for a moment, tracing the rim of his glass. The faint scent of wine and roasted herbs still lingered in the air.
He rose and walked to the tall windows. Outside, the gardens shone silver under the moon. Far off, the clang of steel drifted from the training field - warriors finishing their drills.
For years, he had believed that being alone was safer. That silence meant strength. Tonight had proved him wrong.
He touched the cold glass, his reflection faint in the light. Somewhere in the guest wing, Cindy’s laughter rang again, softer now. Isabel’s voice followed, teasing, bright.
Ethan smiled. For the first time in a decade, the palace felt alive.
Whatever the future held - questions, doubts, the council’s unrest - none of it mattered tonight.
Tonight, he had family at his table.