As the music swelled, the hall became alive with sound—fiddles and lutes weaving their melodies into the clang of silver cutlery, the clink of crystal goblets, and the laughter and conversation. Minute by minute, the air thickened, the feast growing louder, rowdier.
Reuben's dark velvet robe with gold trimmings caught the orange gleam of the chandelier as he moved around to mingle with the guests.. It was fine enough, and princely enough, yet not ostentatious. He had chosen it deliberately; he knew too much finery would draw whispers of vanity, while too little would feed doubts of weakness. Balance—that was the game he played, though never as effortlessly as his mother.
As he crossed the hall, Reuben's eyes flicked over the assembled lords and ladies. He tried to read the room as his father once instructed—watch the mouths, yes, but more the eyes.
