Katarina had seventeen vendor contracts spread across her desk, a seating chart for three hundred that she'd redrawn four times, and a supply chain diagram for wine that looked like a conspiracy theorist's wall.
Three types of wine. The festival required three types. Seris had explained the difference between them with the passion of a sommelier and the clarity of a drunk poet.
Katarina had retained exactly none of it.
There was a red one for the feast, a sweet one for the toasts, and a strong one for the Night Market that Seris described as "the kind that makes decisions for you." Katarina had written that one down as "danger wine" in her notes and moved on.
