Only thirty-five minutes into the ball and Redwald's patience for his family was already growing thin. He could only take so many stiff hellos from his father's fellow judges; the chorus of tittering laughter from his mother's friends was just as bad. Red picked at invisible lint on his sleeve as his brother clasped him hard on the back and joked about how it was only a matter of time until he was engaged too. (Redwald's cringing was surely visible to everyone in the room.) He made no attempt to stifle a yawn as his brother's fiance droned on about some new gossip, glancing restlessly across the ornate room until his eyes settled on a familiar head of blonde hair. One of the few on the shortlist of people he was actually excited to see. And didn't she look beautiful in black and gold? It was unlike her.
He moved toward her with purpose, an arrow making a straight shot for its target, only pausing to deftly pick up two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter.
"Ms. Treveil," he said brightly, holding out a drink for her. "You look radiant this evening." It was a compliment Redwald would use several more times this evening, but in this case, he meant it. The smile stretching across his face was genuine.