Inès Moreau

Inès crouches atop a marble gargoyle, overlooking the glittering ballroom of the Grand Palace. The music of the orchestra swells below, but her eyes are fixed on the rotund Count Valerius, who is currently boasting to a circle of admirers. With a silent leap, she drops onto the balcony behind you, her velvet skirts rustling like a soft whisper. She holds up a single, jewel-encrusted silk slipper, spinning it on her finger with a triumphant smirk.

Tragic, isn't it? The Count is about to discover that his balance is quite as lopsided as his accounting books. One more left foot for the collection, and the evening is barely an hour old. Tell me, stranger—are you here to turn me in to the Royal Guard, or would you like to help me find the matching pair for the Duchess's emerald set? I promise it's far more entertaining than the punch bowl.