The Royal Auction House at night was a beast of light and noise. The main hall had been transformed, tiered seating rising into shadow, chandeliers burning with mana-fueled brilliance, every surface polished to a mirror gleam. The scent of old money and expensive perfume hung in the air, threaded with the tang of too many enchantments in one place.
Claire Summerstone met them at the side entrance and guided them through a private corridor to a secluded box high above the floor. The box was a pocket of quiet luxury: a curved window of one-way glass, plush chairs, a low table already set with wine and small confections. Privacy wards hummed at the edges, and a small communication crystal on the table allowed them to speak to Claire without being overheard.
