Dionne
The ballroom doors swung open and I stepped inside behind Margaret, my breath catching despite myself.
It was beyond beautiful. There were tables draped in cream and silver stretched across the polished marble floor, each one laden with flowers I couldn't name.
"Dionne." Margaret's voice was low and sharp. "Stop gawking. You'll be serving at the head table tonight. Behind the King's chair. Do not speak unless spoken to, keep his glass filled, and for goddess's sake, do not drop anything."
"Yes, ma'am."
She gestured toward the raised platform at the far end of the ballroom where the head table sat empty, waiting. "Go. Now. Before the guests start arriving."
I crossed the ballroom with my heart hammering against my ribs. Nobles were already filtering in through the main entrance, their voices creating a hum that grew louder with each passing second.
