Queen Maye's gaze moved sharply across the ballroom, gliding over silk, jewels, and carefully practiced smiles as she searched for one face alone.
And did not find it.
Irritation coiled tightly within her chest.
Of all nights.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as they fell upon a particular young lady—the very one she had ensured received an invitation. Beautiful, well-bred, and from a family whose influence could tip the balance of power with ease. The perfect match. The perfect advantage.
And yet—
"Where is this idiot boy?" she hissed beneath her breath, her fan snapping shut with a quiet, dangerous click.
"Brother Leo!"
The voice rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the low hum of conversation.
Queen Maye's head turned at once.
There—at last.
But what she saw did nothing to ease her temper.
Her stepson stood engaged, already occupied, already entangled—and not in the way she had intended.
Her jaw tightened.
