I felt I had to move, now.
To remain seated would be to let Sahryne win the game she had started without even raising her voice. Her words, her laughter, her scent — all of it wrapped around me like an invisible chain. But I hadn't come here to play the role of a trophy. So I took a breath, pushed aside the cup they'd served me, and stood.
A shiver ran through the hall. Not fear — rather a keen curiosity, like a blade sliding from its sheath. I was only a man among hundreds of demonesses, and yet each step I took rang too loud, as if the marble amplified my solitude.
I crossed the crowd. The laughter stopped, then resumed, a little lower, a little more mocking. Gazes followed me, some shining with scorn, others with an almost sick curiosity. Murmurs rose, scraping my neck like invisible claws:
— "He dares to stand…"
— "What does he still want to prove?"
— "Maybe he thinks she'll listen to him?"
