The ambassador's gaze, a stray meteor in the glittering galaxy of Choso's party, ignited a supernova of possessiveness within him. His wife, his diamond-dusted masterpiece, shimmered under the chandeliers, yet a tremor danced in her smile, a ripple in the carefully choreographed scene he'd painted. "Obsequious moths," he purred, his fingers wrapping around hers, a steel serpent coiling beneath velvet.

"You have only one sun, my love, and it scorches with jealous fire."