The ballroom never truly slept; it only shifted its rhythm. The quartet had changed to a quicker measure, violins drawing light over the hum of conversation, yet the air carried a strange expectancy. It had begun the moment Lady Serena returned from the east corridor—alone.
Whispers travelled faster than the music. The Minister called her aside.They were gone nearly half an hour.He has left the hall now—an urgent summons, they say.
By the time Serena crossed the floor toward the refreshment table, half the room already wore polite surprise, the other half polite disdain.
She felt the weight of it like perfume in the air. She had learned long ago that scandal rarely required proof; only posture. So she moved with deliberate ease, every tilt of her chin a statement that nothing had happened at all. A smile, quiet but precise, answered the murmurs she pretended not to hear.
Across the floor, Annalys Cross watched.
