Back when Ezra had felt the pain caused by the Duke of Bergwyn speaking directly into his mind…
A different scene was unfolding elsewhere in the Grand Royal Hall.
Several Young Nobles and Non-Nobles had gathered around a table away from the dance floor.
Music filled the hall, and the guests continued moving between their seats and the open floor.
The soft clinking of glasses mixed with their conversations, while the bright lights above reflected off the polished tableware.
However, the young people gathered around this particular table had little interest in the dancing.
Their attention was on Ezra Ashenlocke.
"What's that idiot even doing?"
Felix Ashenlocke stared towards the dance floor with hatred in his eyes.
He held his glass loosely, his attention fixed on Ezra, who had yet to begin dancing with Diane Bergwyn.
"Maybe he has cold feet because of the number of Bergwyns watching him."
Tristin Aethelmont replied with a mocking grin.
