Scarlett’s POV

The ballroom glitters like a night sky trapped under glass.

Grandfather Knight stands at the foot of the dais now, ruby pin flashing every time he moves. The trumpets have faded, but the hush lingers—heavy, expectant. Killian’s hand is warm at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd like I’m made of spun sugar and secrets.

A raised platform waits at the far end, draped in black velvet and silver wolf pelts. Killian steps up first, the spotlight catching the ...