~ Amara ~
The Obsidian was a place built of polished black stone and the kind of hushed, expensive air that made me want to hold my breath. It was the centerpiece of Raventport’s dining scene, a cathedral for people who traded in power and didn't mind the cold. I sat at the circular table, my back straight, my hands folded tightly in my lap beneath the white linen tablecloth. My dress was a deep, midnight blue—chosen by Helena’s personal shopper, of course. It was stiff and uncomfortable, the fabric scratching against my collarbone.
Across from me sat Sarah, the daughter of a man who owned half the docks in the city. Beside her was Adrian, who was currently laughing at something Gideon had said. Gideon looked perfectly at home. His charcoal suit was sharp, his movements fluid and precise
