The ballroom had not yet lost its glow from the evening's announcement, yet whispers began to stir like restless winds among the gilded pillars and silken draperies. The music played faintly, but the voices of noblewomen carried sharper notes than any harp. Their eyes, all painted with envy's hue, lingered upon the unlikely pair Duchess Seraphine and General Thorian Draxell.
"She hath enchanted him," murmured Lady Aveline, her jeweled fingers brushing her fan against her lips. "A hero of countless campaigns, a knight who hath refused flatteries from queens themselves, now bends his ear to her the duchess of darkened name."
Lady Meril raised a brow, her voice laced with disdain. "What enchantment? Nay, 'tis not spellcraft. Men, though brave with sword and shield, are oft witless when beauty smiles. He sees her face, yet hearkeneth not to the shadows that trail her steps."
