The Crystal Pavilion had transformed into a living dream by the time the last rays of afternoon sun bled into violet twilight. Crystal chandeliers floated overhead like captured stars, their facets scattering soft rainbow light across the obsidian floor.
The air smelled of mana-orchids, chilled rosé, and the faint, electric perfume of three hundred and twenty noblewomen finally free from the weight of male expectation.
Laughter rose in bright, unrestrained waves. Silk gowns whispered against skin. Glasses clinked. For the first time in any of their lives, the most powerful women of the empire stood in a space that belonged entirely to them.
Backstage, just beyond the heavy velvet curtain that separated the central stage from the private balcony, Sheela draconic adjusted the neckline of her midnight sapphire gown with trembling fingers. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, but it was the secret beneath it that made her thighs press together.
