The first ten minutes were the worst. It was like being dropped into a frozen sea, the cold shock of a hundred stares pressing in on me from all sides. I stood near the refreshment table, the glass of wine in my hand a flimsy shield, and let the initial wave of scrutiny wash over me. I didn't fight it. I didn't react. I just stood there, a statue in midnight blue, and let them look. Let them whisper. Let them wonder.
Eliot was a silent, steady presence at my elbow, a point of stillness in the swirling chaos of the room. Darius had already moved away, drawn into a conversation with a group of older, more powerful-looking lords. He had left me to sink or swim, just as he said he would. The trust test had begun. The entire ballroom felt like a stage, and I was the unwilling actor who had forgotten his lines, forced to improvise under the harshest of spotlights.
