The sharp click of Cassidy's heels against the marble floor grated on my nerves as she followed us out. I could feel Rowena's tension beside me, her spine rigid with barely contained fury. We had nearly reached safety when Cassidy's saccharine voice called out again.
"Lady Thorne! Please, just a moment."
Rowena turned slowly, her face a perfect mask of aristocratic disdain. I marveled at her composure—the woman who minutes ago had shown me vulnerability now revealed nothing but cold indifference.
"I believe our conversation is concluded, Miss Winters," Rowena said, her voice carrying just enough to make nearby guests pause in their discussions.
Cassidy glanced around nervously, clearly aware of the audience gathering. Her confidence wavered, but she stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"I need to speak with you about Lysander. It's important."
Something flashed in Rowena's eyes—a dangerous glint that made even me step back slightly.
