#Chapter 158: The Gala

Iris The flash of cameras is as blinding as ever as Arthur and I step onto the red carpet leading into the Marsiel Gallery. Arthur keeps close to me, as always, gently guiding me up the path. “Iris! Over here!” “Miss Willford, this way please!” “Arthur, Iris, look this way!” The shouts of the photographers and the flashing cameras used to make me freeze like a deer in headlights—and they still do, sort of. It still makes my heart pound and my palms sweat. But tonight I find myself smiling just a little more naturally, striding up the red carpet with elegant poise. I think, after all my training and practice, I have begun to improve at this. And if Arthur’s supportive squeeze against my lower back and his subtle wink when I glance up at him is any indication, I think he agrees. After wading through a sea of fans and reporters, Emi and Ezra clearing the path ahead, we make our way into the gallery, which has been transformed for the event.