The next morning.
Javier woke with a pounding headache, the dull ache of a hangover pressing against his temples.
Fragments of the night before flickered in his mind, hazy but vivid enough to make him groan.
After the dance with Liana… Gloria had stepped in next.
And then, one by one, the others had forced their way forward. Felicia, Mimi, Delya, Ferine.
Each insisting on their turn, each demanding the same treatment, each pulling him into their own "romantic" dance and kiss.
He rubbed his forehead, wincing at the memory.
The hall had been stunned. Nobles frozen mid-sip, officers gaping, even the visiting kings caught off guard.
Felicia's brother, Kivira, had only chuckled and laughed, slapping his knee at the sight of his "serene, elegant" sister completely breaking her noble composure.
Felicia, supposed to be the picture of grace, had lost all restraint last night, her true side showing for everyone to see.
