Livia returned to the ballroom with measured steps, her friends flanking her like protective shields.
The warm glow of chandeliers felt harsh against her skin, every sound seeming too loud, too close.
"Feel better?" Cordelia asked, linking their arms as they approached their table.
"Much better." Livia said, though her smile felt brittle. "Just needed some air."
She slid into her chair, immediately reaching for her wine goblet with her left hand, her right stayed hidden in her lap.
The liquid trembled slightly as she lifted it to her lips.
Eleanor pushed a plate of glazed pears toward her. "You barely touched your dinner."
"I'm not particularly hungry."
"You should eat something," Catherine said gently.
"Livy." Eleanor's voice carried that gentle concern that meant she wouldn't let this go. "You look pale."
"The outside was cold." She forced herself to pick up her fork, left-handed, awkwardly smiling.
"I'm fine."
