Scars... So many scars.
That was the first thing she noticed. Lucrezia had heard so many tales about Sins and their indulgences that the sight before her felt almost… restrained.
A long table stretched across the chamber's center, carved from a single slab of dark stone and set low to the ground. Candles burned low casting a sharp, deliberate light along the dishes arranged with deliberate care rather than excess: platters of roasted roots glazed with honey and spice, dark breadsth something she didn't recognize, bowls of jewel-bright fruit split open to reveal glistening flesh, and so on. There were decanters of wine so clear it caught the light like glass, and others so dark they swallowed it whole.
The plates lay untouched and goblets waited. Lucrezia had imagined a feast where servants hovered and the orchestra or pianoforte played, but there was none.
