An oddly empty table sat below us, centered before a fan of thirteen tables. At each table sat one of the thirteen betrayers with their families representing the four Irish provinces. The air was faux jovial, like when two best friends were in a fight at the lunch table and everyone had to pretend things were fine. It was all strained looks and awkward tension. The main differences were the fashion and the lack of texting. Not that the betrayers could make a move if they wanted to. The allegiance dinner guests had been chosen carefully. The betrayers were surrounded by ladies, old relatives, and a single champion from their region. The King’s knights lined the walls. While Callum had dressed like the other knights, the King wore a dark red tunic with numerous gemstone-laden necklaces. Very medieval gangster. The servants laid a golden plate before the King, and a silver one before Callum and me. After us, they placed thirteen wooden trenchers on the empty table.
