Whispers Behind Velvet Walls
The murmur of voices, the delicate ring of crystal glasses, the rustle of silk dresses against marble floors—everything wafted around him like faraway impressions, barely touching the fringes of his consciousness. The grandeur, the luxury, the orchestrated refinement of the nobles surrounding him—all that seemed distant, unimportant, as if the hall itself only served to border the moment he was to have with her. His focus sharpened to a point, as if a blade slicing through fog, and it fell on Ania. She was several feet off, stance poised but indolently relaxed, a stillness in the way she carried herself as if each gesture was involuntarily gauged, natural, and without artifice.
