The East Wing Dining Room was never more beautiful.

Low, waltzing candelabras in gold frames.

The air was heavy with smoky fragrance of roasted meat, wine and herbs.

The chandelier above shed a thousand sparkling ice diamonds upon walls and marble floors.

It was a party.

It was a wake.

Leya's arrival cut short the conversation.

All eyes were on her.

Vivian stood up, silk folds catching on the rug.

"Darling," she breathed, lifting a crystal wineglass. "So glad you could make ...