Page 105 of The Last Remaining Light

Master Vaelor watched the ballroom like a man observing a game several moves ahead of everyone else.

And much to Elowynn’s dismay—he was studying her.

His expression didn't change when their eyes met across the hall.

Korvel followed her gaze. “He disapproves of you more openly now.”

“What gave that away?” she scoffed. “The fact he glares at me anytime he sees me? Or how about the way he throws veiled threats at me whenever he has the chance?”

“Mm.” Korvel’s voice lowered slightly, “You’ve become important in this city. Someone to look out for. To get to know and either be a friend or foe.”

Elowynn glanced toward him with a sudden whip of her head. That strange undercurrent beneath his words infuriated her.

Before she could respond, the musicians' melodies shifted, and the ballroom began reorganizing for the next formal dance.

Korvel extended one hand toward her. Elowynn stared at it, a perfectly manicured fingernail tapping idly against her wineglass.

“My lady,” he said. The invitation hung between them.

Every noble within the surrounding area was already watching their interaction. Refusing now would become gossip before dawn bells.

Stars! There would likely be gossip anyway; there always was.

It was all rather annoying, especially because nearly every rumor of late insisted she and Korvel were only moments away from an engagement neither of them had ever discussed.

With a resigned sigh, she lifted her glass of wine and drained the contents.

To hell with it.

Lora looked impressed since the glass had been half full. Korvel appeared moments away from lecturing her on proper etiquette, while Alyra covered a smile that wasn't nearly as hidden as she seemed to think.

Setting the empty glass on the tray of a passing server, she turned to Korvel, then placed her hand in his before he led her out amongst the crowd.

The dance floor opened around them beneath the decorated constellations while musicians high above the ballroom guided the slow celestial waltz through layered strings and resonance chimes.

Korvel’s hand was set carefully against her waist, polite and controlled. Proper. Nothing more.

Elowynn relaxed, letting the music fill her.

Then just as quickly, she regretted relaxing at all, for Korvel had to open his mouth to speak.

“You are distracted tonight,” he observed as they moved through the turning patterns.

“I am surrounded by politicians, Korvel. ‘Tis not my favorite thing. It never has been. You know this.”

“True…” he stated. “But that has never bothered you before. Not like this.”

No, he was right. And she hated that he was, because usually she understood the board.

Tonight something felt off. Like the table was going to turn but she couldn't pinpoint how or why. The entire gala carried tension under its elegance like a predator waiting in the shadows.

She had noticed Conclave officials whispering too close together and several Vigil Order representatives had appeared unexpectedly near the western galleries. They rarely made appearances at formal events such as this.

Even the Council members seemed strained beneath their polished smiles and silver tongues.

And beneath the city—the currents felt terrible tonight.

Their balance was more skewed than usual and they felt restless.