Ines watched, her breath trapped in her chest. She knew this was a plan. She knew Carcel had ask her permission to do this and she agreed. But knowing the plan and seeing it happen were two very different things.
Carcel was not pushing Priscilla away. He was not looking at her with the cold, icy glare he usually reserved for people who annoyed him. Instead, he was smiling.
It was a polite smile, the kind of smile a gentleman gave to a lady he respected. He held a glass of wine in one hand, and his posture was relaxed. When Priscilla leaned in close—so close that the feathers in her hair almost brushed his chin—he did not step back. He leaned down slightly to hear her better.
Ines felt a sharp, hot stab of jealousy pierce through her heart. It was a physical pain, twisting in her stomach.
He is acting, she told herself firmly. He is doing this for us. He needs the room to see them talking. He needs witnesses to see Priscilla seeking him out.
