My cheeks grew uncomfortably warm under the soft lamplight, and my eyes lowered slightly, staring fixedly down at the gray spheres on the saucer.
My author brain scrambled, my chest tightening as the realization hit me: everyone in that pavilion had noticed my sudden, vulnerable expression.
They were devouring my discomfort like wolves over a fresh scent.
I had been so focused on surviving Xander's curse and outsmarting Josephine's hidden knives that I hadn't single-mindedly prepared a proper, lavish high-society token.
To them, I looked like an exposed fraud, a cruel villainess who had finally run out of clever words.
Suddenly, the room went completely dead silent. The cruel, echoing laughter of the debutantes cut off mid-breath, and the rapid clicking of the feather fans froze instantly.
A suffocating stillness dropped over the pavilion, shifting everyone's eyes sharply toward the head of the main table.
