Elara Wynn

The tension in the party slowly began to ease. The lights sparkled again, the music played softly, and the guests laughed as if the earlier incident had never occurred.

I sat with Ronan at the table closest to the dessert buffet. Holding my breath, I tried to distract myself by sampling the neatly arranged petit fours. My hand reached for a strawberry tart—sweet, soft, and light. Perhaps this was the only part of the evening that could calm me.

I ate slowly, taking tiny bites. I ...