"Priscilla," Carcel interrupted her mid-sentence.
Priscilla blinked, surprised. "Yes, Carcel?"
She used his first name. He hated it.
"Forgive me," Carcel said, stepping back. He didn't offer an excuse. He didn't offer a lie. He just withdrew his presence. "I must attend to something."
" But I haven't told you the best part!" Priscilla protested, reaching for his arm again.
This time, Carcel moved. He stepped out of her reach with a fluidity that left her grasping at empty air.
"Another time, perhaps," Carcel said coldly.
He turned his back on her. He didn't care if it was rude. He scanned the crowd frantically. The sea of pastel dresses blurred together. Where was the green silk? Where was his Ines?
He saw Amelia standing near the terrace doors. She was alone, looking toward the side exit.
Carcel moved. He cut through the dancers, ignoring the greetings of several lords. He reached Amelia in seconds.
"Where is Ines?" Carcel demanded. He didn't bother with a greeting.
