A Star is Questioned

For a moment, Elara wondered if she was imagining things. Maybe the stress of the last few days was clouding her judgment. Amara had been acting strange, sure, but perhaps this was just her way of handling the pressure. A tough front for the event a façade to shield them both from Eirik's inevitable meddling.

But as they neared the grand venue, the cool stone steps glittering under the warm glow of chandeliers spilling through the tall windows, Amara's hand tightened around hers. Too tight. Her nails dug in just enough to make Elara wince.

"Elara, I—" Amara started, her tone unusually flat, before catching herself. Her violet eyes flickered, as if she were warring with some inner demon. Then, with a forced smile, she loosened her grip. "We should separate for now. Can't give these vultures more to squawk about, can we?"

"Right," Elara said, trying to sound confident, even though the air between them felt heavy and wrong. "Let's play our parts, then."