High above the hall, Derek stood by the window, his hands pressed against the glass. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a shaky exhale.
Down below, the scene was over. Lord Baron was gone. The dancers were safe. Marissa stood in the center like a Victor.
"Oh!" Derek exclaimed. He clapped his hands together loudly, like a child watching a puppet show. He turned to Liam, his eyes wide and shining with a fake, drunken pride. "Did you see that? She hit him! She actually hit a nobleman with a fan! She is so fierce!"
He laughed. It was a giddy, relieved sound that bordered on hysterical. He grabbed the wine bottle and poured more into his glass, splashing some on the table.
"My wife is scary, isn't she?" Derek asked Liam, grinning like a fool. "I am terrified of her!"
Prince Liam didn't laugh. He didn't smile. He stood perfectly still by the balcony, his hands clasped behind his straight back. He stared down at Marissa.
