While the air near the river was sweet with the scent of lotus blossoms and the warmth of a thousand vows, the atmosphere on the second-floor balcony of The Silcrane was thick with a much colder brand of tension. The restaurant was one of the most exclusive in the Capital, a place where the wood was polished to a mirror sheen and the wine cost more than a commoner's life. It offered a perfect, unobstructed view of the main thoroughfare and the stone piers below, a vantage point for those who wished to observe the festivities without ever having to touch the "filth" of the masses.
Marien leaned against the railing, her face twisted in a look of profound irritation. She adjusted the heavy, sapphire-encrusted lace of her sleeves.
"I don't understand why we had to come out here," Marien whined, her voice cutting through the low chatter of the other noble patrons. "There are far too many people. The smell of the crowd is reaching even up here, and the noise is giving me a migraine."
