The dining table was laid with a noble-exclusive silk tablecloth, its trailing portion of moderate length adorned with lacework. To protect the guests' privacy, maids observing from outside typically couldn't see underneath the table, but with Lyra bending forward to grip her wine glass, even without carefully looking, she couldn't help but catch glimpses of the subtle movements below.
Directly opposite her, Amalia's pair of delicate silver open-toe high heels sat quietly in front of the chair. Her two smooth, silken-white feet were no longer confined within, leaving only slender silver straps dangling onto the floor, the metallic floral patterns at the toe glowing faintly with scattered light.
As for where they'd gone, Lyra gripped her wine glass, her blue eyes shifting to her right.
