I adjusted the high collar of my formal doublet as we approached the grand hall. The air in the castle thrummed with a tension born of centuries of tradition and layers of unseen ambition. Beside me, Luvelia glided with poise, her sapphire gown shimmering in the low torchlight of the passageway.
The patriarch moved ahead with steady, commanding steps, the gait of a man accustomed to courts and power. Secrust and another guard followed at a respectful distance, their polished armor catching the light like shards of a broken moon.
Behind us, Natasha and Martha lingered with Jem, who had been forbidden from attending the banquet because of her youth. Jem had sulked but eventually relented when I promised to bring back a sweet or two from the evening. Now, as the heavy doors to the hall swung open, I pushed thoughts of my sister to the back of my mind. The present demanded my full attention.