"Disgusting bastard," Ruelle muttered under her breath as she moved her hips with the rhythm of the dance.
Her face crunched in irritation, the muscles of her cheeks tightening as she tried desperately to maintain the smile that was painted across it.
The music echoed loudly through the hall, drums beating steadily while the thick scent of alcohol lingered heavily in the air. Sweat, smoke, and spilled ale mixed together, creating a suffocating atmosphere that made her stomach churn.
She tried her best not to let her disgust show at all.
She needed to keep her expression intact.
But she did not even feel the need to dance anymore.
In fact, it was as if her body had lost its flexibility entirely, every movement stiff and forced—like a fish out of water, struggling desperately to find its way back.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly as unease crept through her body. She quickly pulled her hair forward, covering her chest protectively, her fingers trembling slightly as she did so.
