The great hall of the royal palace glimmered beneath a thousand candles suspended in crystal chandeliers. Music swelled softly from the corner where the royal orchestra played a slow, graceful waltz that floated through the air like perfume. Silks shimmered, jewels glittered, and laughter echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of ancient battles and crowned kings.
Amara Aurelia stood near one of the marble pillars, her gown a deep blend of red and black silk that shimmered like dying embers. The lace traced her shoulders, and a crimson rose was pinned near her heart. Around her, nobles mingled in a blur of powdered faces and perfume, their jeweled fans fluttering as they exchanged compliments wrapped in venom and charm.
Her friend Clara, radiant in gold and white, leaned closer to whisper, "I told you, Amara, that color suits you far too well. Every noble man here will think you came dressed for blood."
