The final note of the waltz drifted through the air, lingering like a sigh. Applause followed soft, polite, restrained. Amara and Caelric stopped at the center of the ballroom, their hands still lightly touching, eyes meeting only for a second before she stepped back, bowing gracefully.
Around them, murmurs began to spread like ripples in still water.
"Did you see them?" whispered one noblewoman behind her fan. "The Harvellene heir, dancing with the Governor's daughter."
"How bold of her," another replied. "To hold the gaze of a Harvellene for that long. I heard their kind can read one's soul through the eyes alone."
"Hush," a third said, smiling nervously. "They say those with red eyes don't take kindly to gossip. You wouldn't want his attention, would you?"
