She’d left that life. Deliberately. Because she couldn’t imagine turning her back on the call of the universe, when stars and planets and new life all hung out there like a laughing invitation, reaching out to beckon her in…
And the dancers swung across the floor, a swirl of brightly hued gowns and sheer liquid grace; their laughter bounced off the floating chandeliers, and they were graceful and practiced and smooth as the slide of a starship through moonlight, all skill and thoughtless revelry, and Kit finished the flute of pink champagne she’d been handed and set the glass down blindly, while the waltz twirled on.
She turned, and saw a door, and walked out of it.
The helpful egress led to a balcony, mercifully deserted, wide and built of opal-veined stone. Not true stone, she conclud
