MUSIC AND MURMURS lingered in the air, sharp as static, when Mailah dragged her glare from Grayson.
She'd already taken several determined steps, intent on confronting him before every pair of eyes in the ballroom, when someone else moved to intercept her.
Vivienne.
She glided forward like a queen cut from moonlight, silver skirts brushing the marble as though the floor bent itself to please her.
She paused at Grayson's side, and though her smile was serene, her words had edges.
"Grayson," she said softly, "a word?"
Grayson's eyes flicked from the guardian to Mailah. Hesitation flickered there, brief but real. His hand twitched like he might reach for hers, then curled into a fist instead. "Now?"
"Now," Vivienne confirmed, voice the kind that left no room for refusal.
Mailah's pulse leapt.
The entire ballroom seemed to tilt, the crowd sharpening into teeth and eyes around her.
She was about to be left. Again.
