Arabella's POV:
The glass was unforgiving tonight.
Arabella looked at herself in the glass as her maid secured the last clasp at the nape of her neck, the silver filigree shimmering in the candlelight like a blade. The gown glistened in hues of midnight blue, not chosen for beauty, but for what it covered up, determination. Every aspect had been thought through, every string pulled tight around the mask she had become so adept at wearing.
She should have looked powerful. Instead, she glimpsed the hint of something discomposed in her eyes, something she had done everything in her power to hide.
Her chamber door opened slowly, and a slender courier entered, eyes downcast. He bore no parchment, no seal, only words breathed into the ether, meant for her ears alone.
“They gathered tonight.
