Suitcases lay half-open across the bed, silk and jewelry spilling out like excess made visible. Blair hummed as she picked through outfits, discarding one after another onto the growing pile without a second glance. Dresses of velvet and satin, gold-threaded shawls, furs meant for occasions that didn’t call for them, it was all excess, all carefully curated for attention.
Grayson sat slouched in a chair by the window, his jaw tight, hands pressed over his eyes as though they might shut out the chaos surrounding him. The irritation in his chest simmered higher with every minute.
“Blair,” he muttered, dragging his palms down his face. “We’re going into the City for a council meeting, not a royal ball. You don’t need three gowns, six pairs of shoes, and half the treasury in jewelry.”
Blair
