Every step toward the platform made my heart freeze. My father led me by the arm, his head held high. I did the same. The predatory gazes of those present irritated and unsettled me, but I tried not to look at anyone.
Still, my eyes kept searching the crowd for familiar silhouettes. And then I saw him. His face was hidden behind a mask, but everything inside me screamed that it was Kirill. He was scanning the hall, and some of the guests occasionally turned to look at him.
A pleasant warmth spread through my chest, bringing confidence and calm. My father stepped forward behind the podium. Now it would begin. I glanced around. Escaping from the left would be easier — those three guards didn’t look as strong or intimidating. A voice echoed through the hall, announcing the start of the auct
