At first...

Cassandra made her way through the crowd, rolling her eyes at the inanity of the conversations, and occasionally deigning enough interaction to make a cutting comment. She smiled the entire time, but made sure that the smile was plastered on her face in such a way that people knew it didn't come from warm feelings toward them. She smiled because it was expected. For most of the guests, that just made her behavior seem all the crueler. To think that her subjects thought she was a kind and just ruler! If only they knew the real Queen.

The evening continued in the way it usually had, and, as much as she hated the Gala, Cassandra was comforted by the routine. Perhaps that graffiti problem wasn't so big after all--the perpetrators would soon be revealed, and bought to justice. She'd have her sweet ****, and perhaps then, she'd feel better even than before any of it.

She watched a few boring entertainments, and criticized them loudly. Muriel, the castle chamberlain, who, like the cook, had to negotiate between the often conflicting demands of the king and queen, was sweating bullets. When the bellydancers came out, Cassandra gave her a look that she was afraid might actually have the power to kill. When the act was over, Cassandra walked toward her, ready to give her a piece of her mind.

That's when the door burst open.