Laughter, music, and voices rushed into her ears the moment she stepped inside the room. Thankfully, their attention had been diverted towards the Fools who performed to their entertainment.
Penelope lingered around a potted palm of the age of the ballroom, half-shadowed by their sweeping leaves which served as an alcove whenever she tried to avoid prying gazes. Her eyes lingered at the dais longer than necessary.
Prince Lucian who was nowhere to be found, happened to be swathed by Celia at another corner, obviously amused by whatever she told him. Their open affection seemed to have irritated a few ladies in the room, whose faces frowned upon Celia's attempt to secure an opportunity for herself alone.
Jealousy was perceived in the air, and with the look of things, Celia seemed to have noticed, obviously enjoying the reaction she was receiving. It was a direct sign to those who cared to notice, that the Prince was hers.
What an odious little bitch.
