…He took another sip of mint water, willing his stomach to behave.
The quiet resumed—but it was brittle now, delicate as sugar glass. The nobles had adjusted to Gabriel's too-perfect behavior, and their minds were beginning to itch.
And Countess Myrenne, ever the opportunist, scratched first.
"I must say," she drawled, her voice the kind of gentle that only ever introduced a blade, "it's remarkable to see the palace so vibrant again. Almost as though the past never happened."
Gabriel didn't glance her way. He simply folded his napkin with exquisite precision.
Myrenne leaned slightly forward, her smile faint. "Of course, some memories are harder to erase. I imagine it's… challenging, stepping into a role once filled by Lady Leora Abalone. She was the Emperor's wife before the rebellion, wasn't she?"
That name hit the air like frost on glass.
Alexandra went stiff beside her teacup. Irina blinked. Even the fireplace crackled a beat too loud, like it had gasped.
