If You Leave, I Leave novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: The Gala

The Moon Hall was lit with a thousand candles, and the Stone sat in the middle of the floor under a white cloth.

It was a block of black rock as high as my waist.

Nobody was allowed to touch the cloth.

I walked in at dusk in my brown wool dress, with Tilda's red coat over my shoulders and Tilda on my arm.

Her two hired models walked behind us in dinner jackets.

"Smile," Tilda murmured. "They've never seen a river girl look at them without begging."

"I'm not smiling."

"Then look bored. That's even better."

Five hundred courtiers watched me cross the floor.

My father stood at the back, in the one good coat he owned, beside the other alphas of the poor packs.

He lifted his chin to me, once, and I almost cried.

The guards brought Corwin in at the second bell.

They kept a spear's length from him, with silver chains in their hands that they did not use.

He wore a plain black coat, and his eyes found mine across the whole hall.

The King sat on the dais with Verity on a chair at his right hand.

The silver wolf pin shone on her collar.

The musicians struck up a waltz, and the King raised a finger.

"Let my son dance," he said. "He may as well enjoy what's left of his freedom."

The guards stepped back.

Corwin crossed the floor and stopped in front of me.

He did not ask.

He held out his bare hand, palm up.

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