The Varrow estate was a fortress of refinement, its grandeur unmatched by any other noble house in the kingdom. Yet Celeste knew its polished halls and gilded mirrors hid more secrets than most would dare to imagine.
The court wasn't just a game of alliances and power plays—it was a battlefield of whispers. Rumors moved faster than armies, cutting deeper than swords. And tonight, the battle was being waged at Lady Belmore's soirée.
The invitation had been delivered with all the pomp befitting the occasion, gilded edges and a wax seal bearing the Belmore crest. But Celeste hadn't been fooled by the pretense of camaraderie. She knew exactly why she had been invited—to watch her every move, to test her resolve, and to remind her of her precarious place in court.
The ballroom was already alive with conversation when she arrived. The chatter of nobles mingled with the soft strains of a string quartet, and the air was thick with the scent of perfume and ambition.
