The Royal Diplomatic Reception was designed to be boring.
It was a masterpiece of dullness.
The orchestra played music that sounded like a collective sigh. The wine was lukewarm. The conversation revolved entirely around tariff zones and grain yields.
Marcus leaned against a marble pillar. He swirled his glass of red wine. He was perfectly content.
This is excellent, Marcus thought. I am bored. Everyone else is bored. No one is falling in love. No one is saving the world. This is the pinnacle of success.
He adjusted his cravat. He had chosen an outfit that blended into the beige wallpaper. He was attempting to be a piece of furniture.
Across the room, Damien stood near the buffet table.
He was methodically eating shrimp. He caught Marcus's eye and gave a subtle thumbs-up.
Operation: Fade Away was in full effect.
Then the whispers started.
It began near the entrance.
A ripple of sound moved through the crowd. It traveled faster than a fire spell.
