The first rule of any public trap was simple. Never let the audience know when the performance had become dangerous. Unfortunately, the audience had already noticed.
Nobles were excellent at ignoring suffering when it belonged to servants, children, distant provinces, or inconvenient rumors. They were less excellent at ignoring danger when it stood in the same room, stepped on their silk shoes, and began vibrating beneath their polished marble floor.
Several ladies screamed. Two advisors attempted to flee. One military lord laughed in a way that made me reconsider his invitation for future events.
The Emperor stood. The Empress didn't move from her position in front of the false Crown Prince. Abi, still wearing Adrien's face, looked down at the darkening ring beneath his feet with an expression that would have been wildly inappropriate on the real Crown Prince. Too curious. Too sharp. Too entertained by danger.
