The crowd was enjoying the ball.
Flutes filled with perfumed wine, laughter sharpened to the edge of civility, and silk shoes swept across polished floors to the rhythm of orchestrated diplomacy. The chandeliers cast soft gold over polished cheekbones and polished intent, and the music, pleasant and forgettable, drifted through the high arches like it had never carried anything so vulgar as tension.
Most of the guests weren't required to attend the greeting ceremony. They hadn't watched their heirs kneel, hadn't measured the Emperor's silence or the Consort's gaze. No, tonight was for display. For expensive designs and legacy, the kind of smiles that promised little and meant less.
Only the families of those presented earlier in the day kept their attention fixed on the main dais, watching for any shift, any subtle nod of approval or disapproval. The rest were free to pretend that power didn't have a name.
And then the air changed.
