The silence that fell over the garden after Cherion spoke was so thick it felt like everyone had collectively forgotten how to breathe.
Heinrich stood entirely frozen in his place, his fingers trembling violently as he gripped the handle of his empty porcelain teapot. The black umbrella resting against Cherion's chair served as a mocking monument to Heinrich's utter failure. His light blue silk suit remained flawlessly, aggravatingly dry.
But while Cherion was completely untouched, those sitting right beside him hadn't been quite as lucky.
