The Grand Clock in the West Tower began to toll.
BONG.
The sound was so deep it made the crystals in the floating chandeliers shake. The music stopped right away. Laughter faded.
BONG.
Everyone in the room looked toward the center of the dance floor, where the Saintess and her Beast stood.
"It is time," Mirabelle announced, her voice carrying through the silence.
She reached up and found the silk ribbons of her silver mask with her fingers. She pulled them free.
The mask slipped off, showing her face. Her eyes were bright, triumphant, and lined with dark kohl. She looked at the crowd of nobles, daring them to look away. No one did. They stared, drawn in by the woman who had gone from an outcast to the center of attention.
BONG.
Revas reached behind his head, and the leather straps of the iron muzzle creaked.
He didn't remove it gently. He tore it off.
With a sharp, metallic clank, the heavy iron jaw hit the obsidian floor.
