|Casmira's POV|
The night wears on with a heady mix of champagne, polite conversations, and the occasional brush of Draven's hand against my lower back, a constant reminder that he is both my shield and my tether in this den of calculated smiles.
The banquet hall hums with opulence. The glow of the chandeliers flickers against gilded pillars, and the soft melody of a string quartet swirls in the air, underscoring the murmur of elite conversation. Everywhere I turn, powerful men and women are engaged in hushed negotiations disguised as casual chatter. Deals are being struck behind sparkling champagne flutes, alliances reinforced with little more than a knowing glance.
I sip my drink, scanning the crowd, my headache ebbing just slightly with the coolness of the glass against my fingertip
