The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a suffocating ocean of silk, champagne, and lethal whispers. This was the natural habitat of the New York elite, a place where fortunes weren't just made they were stolen between the appetizer and the main course. I walked beside Silas, my hand resting lightly on his arm, feeling the expensive wool of his tuxedo sleeve beneath my fingers. The gold fabric of my gown trailed behind me like a warning, heavy and cold against the polished floor.
“Smile, Elena,” Silas whispered. His voice was barely audible over the swelling music of the string quartet, but it carried the weight of a command. “The cameras are everywhere. They’ve been waiting all season to see the woman who finally captured the throne.”
“I’m smiling, Silas,” I said, flashing a practiced
