Chapter 20: The Screen

I wore the green dress.

I wore it because Roland had asked, and because I wanted him to see me walk in on my own feet.

The Heron ballroom held two hundred and fifty people at round tables under a ceiling of glass.

There was a string quartet and a river outside the windows, black and shining.

Roland saw me from across the floor.

His whole face lit, and I understood he had asked me without believing I would come.

He crossed the room fast, with Imogen a step behind him.

"There she is," he said, and took both my hands. "I knew you'd come. I knew you'd see sense."

"You asked nicely," I said.

His grip tightened a little.

"You look wonderful."

"So do you."

He did.

He was in a black tuxedo, freshly shaved, and the gray at his temples looked deliberate.

He thought he was about to win.

Imogen wore white.

Her smile was perfect and her hands were cold when she kissed my cheek.

"Leah," she said, very low. "Are you sure?"

"Sit where you're supposed to," I whispered back.

She sat.

Erik was at a table by the service door, in a rented suit he hated, with a glass of water he never drank.

He did not look at the stage where Roland stood.

He looked at me, as he had said he would, and he kept it up.

I looked, once, at the other side of the room.

The detective stood by a pillar in a black dress, with a glass of champagne she did not drink.

Two men in dark suits stood at the exits.

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