The sickly grin made his fingers twitched around his untouched goblet.
The others at the table laughed, except Aldrich. He felt bad for the boy, knowing how close to his father he was.
It was clear the boy wasn't convinced his father died a natural death.
Neither was he, he mused.
Claire stiffened beside him. If it were up to her, he was sure she'd love to dunk the wine over his head and give him a little wake-up spank.
"Serve us wine, lass." Falstaff said, fondling the sleeve of his robe.
He noticed Aldrich watching her from his perch on the table.
Then, she dropped the jug on the table.
"Serve yourselves. I serve the King only."
"So you say. Do you also serve his First man?" The way he said the word 'serve' made Yeren stomach flip.
Andon chose that moment to take a long drink of his wine.
"Claire?" Aldrich called, his voice wavering with uncertainty.
She lowered her head.
