The doors opened. The noise of the hall hit me first—a wall of conversation, crystal chimes, and the low murmur of money looking for a place to sit.
I adjusted my cuffs. The Brass Token on my collar caught the light. It felt heavy, like a coin that had already been spent.
"Chin up," Cael murmured from behind me. He was in dress blues, too, looking uncomfortable and dangerous in equal measure. "You're supposed to be charming."
"I'm charming," I said. "I bathed."
We stepped in.
The reception hall had transformed. The work lights were gone, replaced by the warm, flattering glow of the chandeliers. The tables we had swept for resin were now laden with silver platters and crystal decanters.
The donors were a sea of silk and velvet. They moved in currents, eddying around the wine stations and the displays of academy competence we had staged.
