Celia guessed it was fairly close to midnight when she decided to finally leave the banquet. She'd gritted out polite smiles and made conversation with all who approached her. She did nothing to distract everyone's attention from Eve. She even got up and danced, once with Augustin and once with her uncle Tom.
But now, she was done. Truly, utterly done with it all.
She stalked down the shadowy corridors, her feet sore from the tall pointed shoes she was forced to wear for the sake of fashion.
Sabine followed her reluctantly, as close to pouting as Sabine could get. The lady-in-waiting was clearly upset at being forced to leave yet another event sooner than she wanted.
Celia had told Sabine she should stay behind at the banquet and dance for several more hours. That she could manage getting back to her bedchamber and unlacing her heavy, ridiculous gown perfectly well on her own.
