Lady Alana appears to catch the hidden jests in Sharell’s praise of Brigitte, for her smile grows. “I did find your act to be exquisite,” she says to Brigitte. “I could not fault it in any way. Rumor has it you have already been invited to a private showing. A feat well done, for you deserve greater exposure than just at the Eye. Clearly you have a leg up on the competition.”<br/><br/>“But I would not be so quick to dismiss your own act,” she adds to Sharell. “Once I got over the shock, I rather enjoyed it. Others disagree. Your act was by far the most controversial of the night. Everyone is discussing and debating it. Everyone is passionately defending their opinion. Your act is the most talked about, and I believe that shows it to have equal merit.”<br/><br/>She returns Sharell’s smile, a winsome dimple forming in her cheek. “Will you join me for a drink? To celebrate your success.”<br/><br/><div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>Alizeh’s steps might be a bit clumsy, yet her partner never falters, guiding her with a practiced hand and with practiced feet, the pair swirling (mostly) gracefully across the dance floor. The eyes of many spectators follow the two women, and murmurs of admiration trail in their wake. Alizeh notices the perfume Ianora is wearing, a medley of sweet lavender and other flowers she can’t identify.<br/><br/>Valena is dancing with one of Lord Whitburn’s sons. She gives Alizeh a wink as she twirls by.<br/><br/>Ianora laughs lightly as Alizeh searches for a topic of conversation. “Anyone can be an enchanting partner, not just elves. I once taught a centaur. He literally had two left feet, but he could soon waltz and dance a jig.”<br/><br/>Twice during their dance, Ianora makes a small misstep that narrows the distance between them and forces Alizeh up against her. A simple mistake, though the elf does not seem prone to mistakes. The contact between them increases for a moment, thighs connecting, hips clashing, the elf’s smaller breasts grazing Alizeh’s larger bosom.<br/><br/>Ianora leads Alizeh into a sweeping turn as the music reaches a crescendo, and stops beside a bank of windows as the musicians play the final notes. Spectators burst into applause. Ianora’s gaze remains intent upon Alizeh, and neither do her hands let go. “Shall we go again?” The hand at Alizeh's back trails lower, moving to her waist, then past it. Seductive fingers dip a bit lower, near where her back ends and her backside begins.<br/><br/><div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>Lord Whitburn seems a bit flustered by the speed of Mara’s departure. “Why yes, yes, in writing. But I haven’t gotten to - no, it’s fine, I’ll include it in my letter. Enjoy the remainder of the party, my dear.”<br/><br/>After Mara leaves, he is heard to chuckle to himself. “Clever, that one. Put it on paper - hah! A good head for business, indeed.”<br/><br/>Mara gazes out the window, which looks onto a patio outside the ballroom. Given the darkness, the fog, and the chill of the evening, it appears empty of guests. There are sheltered corners, screened by potted plants where someone could be lurking; but as far as she can tell, no one is spying on the party.<br/><br/>The musicians play the final notes, and the dance ends. Adjacent to Mara, so close she can practically reach out and touch them, are Alizeh and the elf, still locked in a dancers’ embrace.<br/><br/><div align="center">* * * * *<br/></div>“Don’t hold back on our account,” Lord Lucas tells Erica. “Everyone’s ancestors could use a little ribbing now and then. Especially we nobles. And what would get you put in stocks or thrown into a dungeon in less civilized places, here we call artistic expression. I could go on all day about my ancestors’ exploits - I have some real devils in my lineage. But I’d rather tell you about some other patriar families, so I can see their expressions when you’re next on stage.” He gives Erica a wink.<br/><br/>The music reaches a crescendo and then the musicians play the final notes of their current song. Applause rings through the ballroom. “There is one thing you can do,” Lucas says. “May I have this dance?” He bows, deeper this time, extending his hand to her.<br/><br/><div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>Soraya flashes a pearly smile at Henry, and links her arm with his. “You needn’t be concerned about the politics,” she says breezily. “Those of us at the Eye, we’re like family. One big squabbling, spiteful, backstabbing, dysfunctional family. It’s fun.” Her fingers rest lightly on his arm. They feel a bit callused, suggesting she has a trade aside from dancing - something to do with tools or weapons.<br/><br/>She guides Henry to a side-table laden with drinks, where she takes a flute of sparkling mead. “The first thing you ought to know is who’s who amongst the patriars. At present, there are two families that everything revolves around - the Silvershields and the Caldwells. The Silvershields used to be the exclusive leading family, until the... troubles a few years ago. Now, in many eyes, they have fallen. Lady Alana is the only one to show her face at parties, now. She’s over there, in blue velvet.” Henry follows her gaze to a chestnut-haired woman who has given roses to Brigitte and Sharell.<br/><br/>“The Caldwells are the new favourite,” Soraya continues. “Their patriarch is a respected member of parliament. His son, Lord Lucas, is expected to succeed him. And perhaps more, there’s talk of him becoming a Duke when a seat on the Council of Four opens. He’s over there.” She nods towards a blond-haired lord who is speaking to Erica. “He and Alana were once promised to each other. But Alana’s father decided she should marry a foreigner, a noble from Neverwinter. Word has it she was deeply unhappy, but complied. Her husband was much older, and he died in the... troubles. And now their families are rivals. If you choose to perform privately for either of them, take care you don’t favour one over the other, or you’ll end up banned from the manors of the opposing side.”