Holden slipped back into the ballroom through the same side door he'd used earlier.
The chaos had settled into a tense murmur. The Shade's unconscious body had already been carried away by the medics, and the broken mirror frame was now covered with a cloth. Nobles stood in small groups, whispering among themselves and throwing uneasy glances toward the Duke. He stood near the royal dais with a drink in his hand, wearing a smile that looked like it was being held together by pure spite.
Lyra was near the east wall, still standing beside her uncle, though their argument had finally died down. Her shoulders were tense and her jaw was tight. She looked exhausted.
Holden stepped behind a marble pillar, pulled off the Void Mantle, and stored it in his inventory. He straightened his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, then picked up a glass of champagne from a passing servant's tray.
A moment later, he walked across the ballroom like he'd never left.
