Lyra's POV
The celebration buzzed with conversation and movement. I tried my hardest to fade into the background, but the strain of keeping up my false identity and navigating the refined etiquette was wearing me thin. When the tea service began, my nerves only intensified.
I lifted the fine porcelain teapot, my fingers trembling ever so slightly. As I bent forward to pour for Lady Eleanor, a small slip in my grip sent hot tea spilling over the rim and straight onto her lap. The room erupted in startled gasps, with a few princesses failing to hide their amused snickers.
Lady Eleanor’s eyes went wide, the air suddenly thick with silence. My pulse thundered as I hastily set down the pot and reached for a napkin, dabbing at the damp fabric.
“I’m terribly sorry, Lady Eleanor,” I blurted, h
