Lady Taryn stood near the center of it all, her posture as flawless as it had been at the evening's start. Not a trace of fatigue showed on her face as she accepted compliments and well-wishes with effortless grace, her smile serene and composed.
At her side, however, Avarine had gone rigid.
Whatever patience she had possessed earlier in the evening had been entirely spent.
Without waiting to be dismissed and without offering so much as a polite farewell, Avarine turned sharply on her heel and strode out of the ballroom.
"Avarine," Lady Taryn called after her, surprise flickering briefly across her otherwise controlled expression. "Avarine, wait—"
But her daughter did not slow.
Her skirts swished furiously around her legs as she vanished into the corridor beyond, her steps quick, sharp, and unrestrained. Murmuring apologies to the nearest guests, Lady Taryn excused herself at once and followed.
