The dining hall was lit by a crystal chandelier that threw cold light across a table set for twelve. Jane Salvatore sat at its head, her posture immaculate, her fingers wrapped around a glass of Barolo as though it were a scepter. The moment I stepped through the arched doorway, a hush settled over the room like a cloth dropped over a birdcage. Xavier's associates, his crew of loyal sycophants and hangers-on, turned to look at me. Several rolled their eyes without bothering to hide it.
"Auntie, why did you even invite her?" one of them muttered, loud enough to carry. "All she's going to do is spoil the mood."
"The witch is here to intrude between the loving couple again." They did not bother to lower their voices. The cruelty was deliberate, each word lobbed like a stone meant to land.
"Mia, sit here." Jane pointed a manicured finger toward a chair near the center of the table.
I ignored her. I was already seated at the far end, my hands folded in my lap, my expression as still as a frozen lake.