Zellheim, the Royal Capital. The commercial district. The Dragonbreath Hearth.
The restaurant was renowned throughout noble society, not because its dishes were particularly expensive, but because of its centerpiece-the enormous hearth that occupied an entire wall.
Legend had it that the hearth's stone came from deep within Dragonbreath Volcano and could gather fire elements on its own. The charcoal it burned was made from iron hazel oak, imparting a distinctive fragrance to the meat roasted over it.
A trace of chill still lingered in the evening air, but the moment one stepped inside the restaurant, a warm current laden with the rich aroma of meat swept over them.
Diana followed a waiter through the bustling dining hall.
She had made a point of changing into a sky-blue traveling dress. Its soft fabric fitted closely, outlining her slender waist.
Before leaving, she had even spent an unusually long time at her dressing table, applying a thin layer of the expensive cosmetics she had bought on Hundred Sparrow Street to her cheeks.
This was her first time meeting Veylin somewhere like a restaurant.
Not in a dusty territory, not in a solemn council chamber, but somewhere... normal.
Her heart beat a little faster, and her fingers unconsciously twisted her cuff.
The waiter stopped outside a private room in a secluded corner of the second floor, bowed, and withdrew.
The door stood ajar, and indistinct voices drifted out from inside.
Wasn't this supposed to be a date for just the two of us? Diana felt a pang of disappointment.
She steadied her slightly uneven breathing, reached for the brass handle, and gently pushed the door open.
The sight inside froze her expression.
Veylin was seated there, wearing a well-cut black coat that accentuated his tall, lean figure. His head was turned as he