The steward had remained, both for the opportunity to see the absolute catastrophe of it all, but also to serve Stratya in her needs. She did well enough, in this echelon of society, but she struggled with some of the finer points. It was the way she was, ah, usually so respectful, the etiquette came to her naturally. Her stumblings were to be expected, considering her background. That was why he was here, why Raynor had sent him to serve her.
While two servants Gracian had recruited retrieved and brought mead to Lady Zarai and Torvi each, the steward himself brought forward a vessel for the guard woman of the foreign sea captain, despite the riotous energy at the intersection of the center table and the high table just next to her. Things were reaching a peak, Duke Lorenzo was just now advancing on the high table, Her Highness Princess Anastasia had called her th-⌠threat, to Lord Cassius Damian. Things seemed like they were about to boil over, but he had a task to complete, and he should be safe doing it, as long as he kept his head down. Taking the position between Iyen and the empty seat of Sjan-dehk, Garcian gently laid down a mug of amber mead, the appearance of which was not unlike a stein full of honey. The consistency was, naturally, much thinner.
âCompliments of Captain Durmand. Behind you and to the left, with the mantle of a boar.â Couldnât miss her. A beat, and he added, âI believe she thought you were dissatisfied with the wine. Please, enjoy.â
The professional servant would then retreat from the developing scene not far away, reluctant to get caught up. No, heâd rather watch from afar. If he knew the captainâs enthusiasms at all, she would want to make her brotherâs mead more known, as well. If he watched carefully, he just might be able to spot more opportunities to advertise as the show went on.
Time:6 p.m. Location: The Castle Dining Hall Attire:Alexander's suit and Lorenzoâs fit Interaction: Wulfric Danrose, Alibeth Danrose, Edin Danrose, Mina Blackwood, Roman Ravenwood, Violet Damien, Calberto Damien, Sebastian Blackwood Mention: Fritz, Olivia, Ariella, Hala, Kazumin, Kier, Cassius, Every young Varian woman, Sjan-dehk
Lorenzo marched forth on a warpath toward Alexander's seat, narrowing his focus only on the man who had caused such turmoil. It was only mere moments ago that he sat comfortably in his seat at the âheadâ of the table. Compared to other occasions, this one was nigh to perfection. All the food he could eat. He had beans, greens, potatoes, tomatoes⌠you name it. Around him were the faces of those he enjoyed being around. Even Fritz stopped by to give him a warm greeting. He hadn't brought Kier, which he regretted but it kept unwanted eyes off him. Everything was good. It was good. Good!
No. There was nothing good about this evening if he had to watch Charlotte shrink in her seat while mulling about being rejected. There was nothing good at all about this!
Sure he has a wife. Sure he does! But Lottie is good enough! She can make a man doubt his love for another. She can make them become lost in their thoughts just thinking about her! Sheâs smart and talented! She stays out of trouble. Never mean or nasty. Never! No, she is sweet to everyone and minds her manners! Her cooking needs work but we have servants for that. For crying out loud she is the Duke of Veirmontâs daughter⌠Both Dukes of Veirmont! This will not do. I must speak to this man after this feast is done. Yes, I will talk to Alexander Deacon about reconsidering his decision⌠No, I will make him regret his decision! Yes!
Lorenzo nodded to himself before glancing up at Charlotte, who was seemingly flirting with⌠he couldn't recall Sjan-dehkâs name, but he knew his face after seeing it a few times. For a moment, she appeared happy but⌠No⌠this is⌠No , no, no⌠It's not that bad. Lottie is a friendly young woman and perhaps she knows him better than I do. Yes. Hmmmm. There was too much touching between them.
Lorenzo unintentionally wrinkled his nose before looking down at his plate questioning if Lottie had begun her plummet from grace. He trusted her but he knew emotions ran wild in young women during courting season. New love, heartbreak, lovesickness. They were exposed to it all during these trying times. He had to trust her, just as he always had.
Quietly taking a deep breath, Lorenzo raised his head to find Charlotte gone from her seat, her arms now wrapped around another man. Count Fritz Hendrix. If Lorenzo had food in his mouth, he might have choked with how hard he gulped. He briefly looked up at Fritz, horrified before looking back down at his plate. He noticed his hands were trembling now, as he imagined fear became a reality. No⌠No, no, no. He denied what he was seeing. He'd deny as hard as he could. Perhaps if he waited a minute, she'd be back in her seat as if nothing occurred.
The gods were not pleasant this evening.
"I'm always so happy to see you, Kazumin."
âKa-â He caught himself but his head shot back up, hoping he mistook who she addressed.
KAZUMIN?! That horrified look on his face. He was screaming inside. He couldn't help but shake his head but not a word would leave his lips. Charlotte, his beloved Lottie had seemingly thrown away any self-worth she had. She had become like one of them.
Rejection was a powerful thing. It could shatter your perspective of your dignity. Three men in minutes. Perhaps even seconds apart. He watched her as she eyed her seat, silently wishing she would return to it.
Lust. It moved her now. How could he expect her to simply stop at three? His eyes caught sight of someone else. He knew this young man quite well. Calbert's son and also quite the fun drinking buddy at the Tipsy Tavern. Cassius. He was aware the two might have some kind of friendship despite the ire between himself and Calbert. There was a short pause of consideration from her before she headed in Cassiusâ direction. She thought about it! This is what Charlotte desired now. The comfort of multiple men without regard for her reputation.
âWhy?â It came out as just a small whisper. Now he was the one shrinking in his seat.
She hugged him as well, and though he imagined his heart to become still from this repeated action, to be powerless and forfeiting, his heart throbbed with intense vigor. Charlotte had moved quite far down the table, enabling one man to enter the scope of his line of sight. The one man who had started this and ruined his beloved Lottie. And there he was, smiling and enjoying himself in the company of the royal family.
Lorenzo would not wait another goddamned second.
âALEXANDER DEACON!â He roared without care for how inappropriate it was to yell while everyone was enjoying their meals. Nothing was going to stop him with everything he had just witnessed.
What now? Alexander turned to see the Duke marching over, displeasure visibly on his face. He hadn't expected to deal with Duke Lorenzo. In fact, he had made sure and well that he'd never have a reason to speak to the man. Now, of all times, couldn't have been any worse. Queen Alibeth had risen from her seat, returning Cassiusâ threat with one of her own; King Edin kept leaning across his table, whispering to him with gawdawful breath; Wulfric was being as pleasant as ever; Roman was handing Violet a shovel; and Violet buried him in a teary-eyed funeral.
Things hadn't exactly calmed down but he could at least go on knowing he made an attempt to diffuse the situation. Did it matter to him if it was successful? Of course not, Alexander felt he could wipe his hands clean while all the others pointed knives at one another⌠Almost all of the others.
There was Wulfric, still pointing that sword of his in his direction. It was quite goading but Alexander knew better than to cross too far across the line with the prince. So to Wulfricâs comment, he simply said softly with a challenging raise of his eyebrow, âOf course not, your mother told me otherwise, remember?â For the first time tonight, he showed Wulfric his true face, knowing Lorenzo was just a second away from disturbing the surrounding chaos with his own personal storm of ridiculousness. He looked at the prince indignantly, as if he was wet shit-stained filth left at his doorstep. Calling it a sneer would be an understatement.
âWith all due respect, Queen Alibeth⌠No! This problem is-â
âDuke Vikena, we have no need of your intervention. Please return to your seat,â
Lorenzoâs head whipped toward Wulfric with an intense glare in his eyes.
âDid I address you, young man?! I have no need for your intervention! I, the Duke of Veirmont, need to have a word or two with Alexander Deacon, regarding my daughter. I do not wish for Charlotte to become like one of these young Varian girls with no self-worth!â He made a glance at Mina Blackwood, not caring how she felt. âI don't need or want to speak to you, Prince Wulfric and I don't need or want you to speak to me. So please,â Despite his sudden outburst, Lorenzos was far from his goofy self.
Juxtaposed to his demeanor was Alexander facing forward with a pleasant smile. Surprisingly, he was content with his eyes on Roman. The man had surprisingly impressed him tonight with cold ruthlessness. He had done more than just broken Violet's heart. He tore into it for all to see with a quaint smile on his face.
A part of him wished he could comfort her during such a vulnerable time but her body language told him she did not desire his touch. Taking this wonderful opportunity to take a short break from chaos, Alexander decided he would go along with whatever Lorenzo had in mind.
âDuke Lorenzo Vikena, a pleasure.â He slightly turned to look up at the seething visage of Charlotte's stepfather.
âWe need to talk. Now!â
âOf course, of course. Lead the way, Duke Vikena,â he said coolly while rising from his seat. âExcuse me, this shouldn't take long. Oh and don't miss me too much, Your Majesty. My heart only yearns for the love of a woman after all. Toodle-loo.â He winked before following Lorenzo down the aisle passing seat after seat with his clasped behind his back.
He couldn't help but notice how vulnerable Lorenzo was at the moment. One wrong turn in whatever secluded location he chose and he could ensure Charlotte became Duchess early. Though, doing such a thing would likely go horribly wrong. As they passed by Charlotte in her seat Alexander exchanged eye contact with her with a much too pleasant grin on his face.
I wonder what could be troubling you tonight, Charlotte. I tried to warn you, little dove.
âYou said this was about Charlotte, correct?â Lorenzo did not answer Alexander as he was more focuwere on searching for a suitable place. He looked toward the balcony.
âNo, not there. It's already taken.â
Lorenzo frowned and started toward the door leading directly outside.
âI saw quite a few people go out there already. I think we should try the long hall we used when we entered. The doors will be shut behind us.â Alexander guided Lorenzo from the rear, who begrudgingly took his advice.
âTo the hall!â Lorenzo demanded as if it was his idea in the first place.
âOf course,â he said, playfully conforming with Lorenzo.
The two walked through the double doors, disappearing into the entry hall. That is what it is.
Iyen: A short blade sheathed on her lower back A coil of rope across her body
Iyen snatched the drumstick out of the air with the same ease and carefree indifference she wouldâve had, had it been a knife. She even twirled it about her fingers like oneâpartially out of playfulness, partially out of habitâbefore dropping it onto her plate. At first, a mischievous smirk curled her lips as she thought over her response, but then it gradually, slowly softened. It turned gentle, into a satisfied smile coloured by faint hues of genuine geniality.
Kaliâs response had revealed a few things about her to Iyen. One, that she was a rather intense lady with a poetic way with words. Two, that she dabbled in cloak-and-dagger affairs; affairs that involved a little more daggers and a little less cloaks, by the wound of things.
And three, and this was the most important of all, that she was serious about Sjan-dehk.
Well, it was either that, or she was a really, really good actress, but that didnât seem to be the case to Iyen, and sheâd crossed paths, and arms, with many excellent liars throughout her service to Lady Adiyan. Most of the words that had left Kaliâs mouth had carried far too many raw emotions, and had been laced with too much vitriol directed towards Iyenâwhich she deserved, to be honestâfor them to be simple lies. Iyen still wasnât certain what it was exactly that Kali felt for Sjan-dehk, but whatever it was, it evidently pressed hard on her heart. Or mind. Or both.
Regardless, it was enough for Iyen to decide that sheâd play nice with her. For now, at least.
Besides, Sjan-dehk likely wouldnât like it if she went ahead and started a fightâhowever unintentionally or accidentallyâwith Kali.
âOh, itâs not a peace offering, silly,â Iyen said with a giggle. âThis is a feast! You should eatâŚâ
Her words trailed off as she noticed Kaliâs attention fixed on something across the hall. Following her gaze with her own, Iyen turned towards one of the hallâs entrances just in time to see the well-decorated hem of an elegant, flowing outfit disappear around a door. Was that one of the âdangerous ghostsâ Kali had talked about earlier? The look on her face, and the air of tension about her, certainly suggested so.
Iyen knitted her brows. She swept her gaze around the hall to search for any suspicious individuals, for all the good that didâshe didnât know enough of local ways and customs to even know what was considered suspicious by Caesonian standards. And she felt quite certain that any clandestine agent of even middling skill would know to hide the more easily recognisable, universal tells.
âHm.â That hummed, barely uttered syllable was all the sound she made as she looked at the long table at the head of the hall. The same altercation that had been taking place there when sheâd taken her seat was still on-going. Only now it involved the man with whom Kali had been mingling.
The very same man whom Iyen had seen receive a hugânot a fleeting one, but a lingering one that spoke of deeper feelings of some sortâfrom the pale girl who had earlier stolen Sjan-dehkâs attention. What was it about this man, attracting all the women Sjan-dehk spoke to? Was there some hidden feud between the two of them? If so, the Captain certainly deserved some praise for managing to build a rivalry with another person within weeks of coming to Caesonia.
âWell, youâre right,â Iyen said as she turned back to Kali, a grin on her face. âI canât say Iâve got any ghosts coming after me. Iâm not important enough for them to.â She giggled and leaned in a little closer. âBut that means Iâm good at getting rid of them. Iâve done that many, many times before. So donât worry, Kali! Youâre important to Sjan-dehk, which means youâre important to me too, you know? Nobodyâs going to, according to you, âslit your throatâ without me doing something about it.â
Her voice lowered as she continued, and took on a more earnest tone. âAnd I guess I should apologise as well, Kali. I was wrong about you.â A sheepish smile crept across her face, but even that had the look of a mischievous grin. âWell, I think Iâm wrong about you, so please donât prove me wrong, okay? Itâd be really, really troublesome, otherwise!â She gave Kali a look that told her that she was just being funny. âSjan-dehk and I have looked out for each other for years, thatâs all. Oh! And speaking of himâŚâ
She nodded to the Captain, behind Kali. âMaybe you could tell him what you told me? About you shielding him from your ghosts? Because if I know him well, and I really do know him well, heâs sitting there thinking that he did something to piss you off.â She lowered her voice even more, until it was just a whisper meant only for Kaliâs ears. âAnd really, donât worry about him. Heâs got a knack for facing shite odds and finding a way to come out on top. And to be honest, if heâs really set on protecting you, youâre not going to keep him away from your ghosts for long.â She smirked. âYouâd have an easier time making that crazy bastard swim back to Jafi!â
Iyen leaned back just as another servant arrived.
âCompliments of Captain Durmand. Behind you and to the left, with the mantle of a boar.â He set a mug on the table, something which immediately caught Iyenâs attention. Sheâd been receiving glasses all night, so far. This was clearly something different. "I believe she thought you were dissatisfied with the wine. Please, enjoy.â
She nodded, then looked over her shoulder at the indicated woman. âThank you,â she mouthed, and gave her an appreciative smile.
Then, she turned back to Kali. âAnyway, where was I?â She picked up the mug and sniffed its contents. A pleasantly sweet aromaânot cloying, but a gentle sweetnessâwafted up her nose. âOh right! If you want my advice with the Captain, just talk to him. He's not that scary. And Iâve got a feeling that youâll discover something surprising.â Her voice took on a melodic, sing-song quality towards the end, and she grinned. Then, she took a tentative sip from the mug. Like its smell, the drinkâs taste had a smooth, lightly honeyed flavour that flowed easily down her throat.
âOh my, this is good!â She giggled, then held the mug out towards Kali. âYou should try it, Kali! And maybe this can be my actual peace offering?â
Thea startled when she felt an arm slide around hers. Her first instinct was to pull away, but she didnât. She glanced at Ariella in surprise.
They barely knew each other, only traded glances at events and the occasional polite greeting in passing. And yet, here she was. A bottle of wine in one hand, warmth in her smile, and no judgment in her eyes. Thea blinked, confused for a beat, but her feet kept moving and she let the other woman guide her away from the wreckage of the banquet.
Her voice landed gently, not as a joke, not as pity. Just⌠understanding.
Thea didnât answer at first. She couldnât. Her throat was too tight. But her fingers curled lightly around Ariellaâs arm, grateful for the anchor.
The cool night air hit her as the doors opened, and for a moment, she could finally breathe.
She took a long pull straight from the bottle, the wine sharp and burning, but it steadied her. If only a little.
Ariellaâs voice filled the quiet beside her, softer now. âShe threatened me again, on her way out. I didnât even bother responding this time. Karmaâs coming. Sooner or later.â
Theaâs eyes flicked to her, searching her face, her expression shocked followed by some comcern.
And then she spoke, her voice small and raw.
âNo. Iâm not okay, if I'm being honest.â
It was the truth, stripped bare. No theatrics. No sarcasm. Just truth.
âI think I ruined everything. Leoâs upset. Drakeâs upset. My motherâŚwell, she was never proud to begin with, but I think I just gave her a new reason to hate me.â Her grip tightened on the bottle. âI didnât mean to turn things into a scene. I just⌠I donât know. I was trying to do something right for once. And now it feels like everyone I care about is just⌠disappointed.â
She laughed bitterly and wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.
âAnd your motherâgods, I just got so irritated watching her treat you like that. Like you werenât enough. Like nothing you ever did would be right in her eyes. Iâm so tired of mothers like that. Of people who act so perfect while ripping others to shreds.â Her voice trembled with quiet rage. âThey gossip and sneer and call it concern, but they donât know a damn thing about the people theyâre judging. They donât ask what someoneâs been through. They donât care.â
She took another drink, slower this time, and exhaled sharply.
âI just⌠I wish people would stop assuming. Just ask. Just check in.â
Her words slowed, her gaze shifting to Ariella.
âAnd thatâs exactly what youâre doing.â
She blinked, the realization softening her. âYou barely know me. And you still came after me. You didnât have to. But you did.â
She looked away, breath catching slightly. âThatâs what I want from people, you know? Just⌠that. Not judgment. Not cold stares. Just someone who gives a damn.â
She glanced away, swallowing hard.
âI know Iâm too much. Too loud. Too reckless. I drink too much, talk too much, feel everything way too big. And maybe thatâs why people keep leaving. Or looking at me like Iâm this exhausting thing they have to manage.â
The words cracked near the end. She took another swig, more desperate this time.
âI donât want your brother to hate me,â she whispered, eyes downcast. âHeâs⌠Heâs kind. He makes me feel safe. I donât feel that often.â
She shook her head with a broken laugh.
âIâm sorry. You barely know me, and here I am, crying into wine like some dramatic cautionary tale. But you came after me anyway.â Thea looked at her, voice barely above a breath. âYou didnât have to.â
There was silence for a beat, and in it, Theaâs defenses thinned, just enough to let something else inâsomething small and scared but stubbornly hopeful.
âMaybe Drake's not the only Edwards who makes me feel safe.â
Time: Evening Location: Castle Dining Hall Attire: Dress, Amulet Interaction: @Apex Sunburn Sjandehk @Oso Cassius @JJ Doe Fritz @FunnyGuy Lorenzo/Alexander The ballroom shimmered like a dream woven in candlelight, but Charlotte Vikena could no longer discern reality from illusion.
She sat with her hands folded delicately in her lap, an attempt at composed elegance. Yet, her fingertips trembled uncontrollably. Phantom sensations danced across her skinâan icy brush of unseen fingers tracing the curve of her shoulders, whispers of a forgotten touch, and her heart thundered in terrified rhythm.
Charlotte's focus abruptly shifted as Olivia rose suddenly, movements oddly stiff and mechanical. Olivia quietly murmured something to Kazumin and moved towards the balcony doors, the expression on her face distant, troubled. Charlotteâs heart clenched painfully; concern etched itself deeply into her elegant features. "OliviaâŚ?" she breathed softly, fingertips gripping the fabric of her gown tightly beneath the table. She considered following them, but her legs felt rooted, heavy with hesitation. A sudden chill crawled down her spine, distracting her. The ballroom lights flickered ominously, shadows elongating like grasping hands across the polished marble. She shivered involuntarily as the sensation of cold fingers tightened around her wrists, pinning her to the chair.
A waiter dropped a tray somewhere distant in the room, the sharp metallic clang reverberating through Charlotte's mind like a prison door slamming shut. She flinched, her pulse hammering painfully in her throat. Phantom murmurs filled her ears, indistinct yet menacing, threading fear through every breath she took.
Charlotte drew a shaky breath, struggling to anchor herself as reality and nightmare twisted indistinguishably around her. She clung desperately to the edges of her unraveling composure, her gaze fixed helplessly on the spot where Olivia had disappeared from.
âCharlotte, I thinkâŚCharlotte, you should go find doctor,â Sjandehk's hushed voice filled her ear. âIt isâŚIt is possible that you are sick, or maybeâŚYou drink something you should not. But either way, I do not think you look well. You should get help.â
His voice had gently pierced the fog enveloping her, steadying her briefly."Youâre kind to worry, truly," she murmured, her voice soft, but her expression fell apart rather quickly, and she admitted softly to him, "I fear⌠something is wrong with me."
âIâve been seeing and hearing things that Iâm not entirely certain are real.â Her voice dipped into a hushed confession taut with dread. âIt crossed my mind that it might be poison. The symptoms align... Belladonna, perhaps. Or datura. Even monkshood in high enough doses can cause hallucinations and confusion.â Her brow furrowed delicately, her mind visibly working through possibilities. âI may need to go to the hospital, if this is physiological rather than... imagined.â
Chains rattled sharply in her ear suddenly, scraping like iron teeth against stone, echoing in the darkness around her. Her hands clasped over her ears, and she leaned over. Then, the icy sensation of frigid water flooded her lungs, merciless and choking, filling her chest with a piercing agony. Her vision spun, distorted, and blurred by panic and pain.
Then, cutting through her terror like a blade, a voiceâcold, splintering, inhumanly sharpâhissed right beside her ear, each word punctuated with venomous precision: "Hold her still."
Charlotteâs entire body went rigid. Her breath snagged painfully in her chest, throat constricting like a tightening noose. A phantom stench invaded her senses: moldy, damp cloth mingled with rusting iron, suffocating, oppressive, pulling her deeper into the nightmare. Her vision collapsed into a dizzying tunnel, black spots dancing at the fringes, suffused with dread.
"Stop thrashing." The command came again, from that same mysterious voice, sharper, more impatient, dripping with cruel detachment.
A helpless gasp clawed its way up her aching throat, burning like acid. Another voice surged inside her, young, fragile, pleadingâher own terrified echo: Iâm not sick... Iâm not sick. But the words tasted bitter with denial, swallowed by shadows.
âYou do look unwell, Lady Charlotte. Would it help if Lord Cassius Damien escorted you to the infirmary?â Her eyes darted to Fritz, unfocused, and when she did, he seemed to grimace at her. As if she were beneath him, not even human.
"I-... Why him-"
The room tilted sharply once more, and she hadnât noticed Cassius's approach, but there he was in front of her suddenly with those beautiful eyes of his filled with concern. Her vision blurred and her fingers gripped his desperately, clutching him far tighter than she'd intendedâas if terrified he might vanish if she loosened her hold for even an instant.
"LottieâŚ" His voice was soft, a gentle caress entirely unlike the sharpness he'd wielded against Prince Callum or Lord Ravenwood. "I believe it would be best if both of us stepped out for some fresh air. Itâs beginning to get a little stuffy in here, it seems." He offered her a reassuring smile, one she had glimpsed the night before, then he leaned closer and whispered, "Let me help you, please."
His gentle words, his genuine demeanor... It made something unbearable stir in her chest. A rush of infuriating hope surged through her, tangled with raw, aching pain. Even if her mind had been clear in that moment, even if the world werenât tilting sideways, she wasnât sure she couldâve found the right words anyway. Not for this. Not for him.
Charlotte finally drew a shaky breath. For the first time in what felt like hours, her chest expanded fully, but it ached, like it had forgotten how. They were right. She needed to leave.
Considering the bizarre words of Leo and Thea, she knew that it would be difficult to decipher not only what she heard was real but also if what she was seeing was real. She had no clue what to even think of the strange voice and terrible sensations, but one thing was clear: she was more on edge than she could remember feeling as of late. âAlrightââ The word barely left her lips before her breath caught.
Then her gaze caught Alexander.
He glided past with grace. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a breathless instant, he smiled at her in a way that made her skin prickle with dread, and something in her gut told her this one had been real. Nausea twisted her stomach as she watched Lorenzo and Alexander leave the room together.
âI need to find out whatâs going on,â she said, her voice sharpened suddenly, "Iâll be back."
Standing unsteadily, she smoothed trembling palms over her skirts. The room swayed dangerously, and her name echoed faintly from afar, but she hurried after her stepfather.
Beyond the ballroom, the hallway stretched long, dark, and distorted. Distantly, muffled voices roseâLorenzo and Alexander, behind closed doors. Charlotte lingered, her courage faltering. Then she hurried to press her back against the cool wall, breathing shallowly. The stone beneath her shoes pulsed faintly, unsettlingly alive as she tried to overhear the discussion. Subsequently, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she tried to ignore the shadows that crept closer, slithering like ink in water, curling inward as if drawn to her trembling heartbeat.
âCharlotte.â Rynâs whisper barely disturbed the air.
The Lady jumped, a small, startled movement like that of a fawn catching an unexpected scent. When she turned to find him with his finger pressed against his lips, her shoulders eased.
âFancy meeting you here,â she breathed, mustering a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
Ryn returned the smile. âIf you were poisoned, should you be out here eavesdropping rather than on your way to a doctor?â His voice carried more fondness and little reproach.
He withdrew the enchanted lenses from his coat pocket, studying her magicae briefly before extending them towards her. âThese symptoms⌠do they feel similar to that night at the masquerade?â Accepting the lenses once Lady Charlotte inspected herself with them, Ryn set a glass bottle filled with water beside her.
He had not dawdled in following her. The moment she had risen from her seat, Ryn made straight for Captain Wasun. A courteous bowââI am terribly sorry we havenât been properly introduced, Captain, I do hope weâll remedy that soonââfollowed by a meaningful squeeze of Lord Vael-Damienâs shoulder. Then he slipped out of the room, taking two glass tumblers and a bottle from one of the serving stations along the way.
Now, he lifted the borrowed tumblers with a conspiratorial arch of his eyebrow. At Lady Charlotteâs puzzled expression, he demonstrated, pressing the glass against the heavy oak door and leaning forward to rest his ear against its base. The muffled voices on the other side sharpened.
Minaâs fingers stilled on the stem of her wine glass, her expression smoothing into a mask of pleasant civility. But the burn that crawled up her spine was unmistakableâslow, deliberate, furious. Edinâs words werenât just condescending; they were a performance. A public warning, thinly veiled in power and patronizing charm and the way his eyes lingered on her, like she were meat on the banquet table rather than a noblewoman in her own right, sent a sick chill beneath her skin.
She didnât speak right away. That alone was her first act of defiance. And then, she smiled. Not sweetly. Not coyly. Something far more dangerous.
âOf course, Your Majesty,â she said, her voice velvet-draped steel, âand I thank you for the clarity. Itâs always helpful to know precisely whatâs expected of a woman.â
Her eyes lingered just a moment longer than they should have on his gobletâthe weight of it, the way his fingers wrapped around the stemâand then they slid to Queen Alibeth with the same measured grace. âI imagine the burden is all the heavier when a woman must carry the crown⌠and the kingdom that comes with it.â
She didnât wait for a reply. Instead, she raised her own glass. Not in toast, but in perfect mimicry of Edinâs earlier motion. And drank.
Then Minaâs hand stilled on her wine glass, the glint in her eyes dimming as Romanâs words sank in. The easy charm, the mocking turn of phraseââa gentle caress out of passionâ--soured on her tongue like curdled cream. She knew Roman. Or at least, she thought she had. But this? This flippant cruelty, this public smearing of Violet under the guise of jest, felt wrong. Not just unkindâŚunnatural. It carried the same off-kilter polish sheâd seen earlier in Prince Callum. Too smooth. Too controlled. Like something else was steering the man beneath the skin. Her gaze flicked between the two of them, a chill blooming at the base of her spine. No, not men. Puppets. And something about the way Roman looked at her, how he lumped her in with the âpleasuresâ and ârumorsâ like she was part of the theater, made her stomach turn. Her jaw tensed, lips pressing into a faint smile that didnât quite reach her eyes. If this was a game, she wasnât sure what side Roman was playing for. But she wouldnât call him out. Not yet. Not here. Because if she was rightâif something inhuman was at workâthen Violet wasnât the only one at risk of being burned.
She sat in poised silence, but her eyes followed every word that passed between Calbert and Violet like a hawk tracking a storm on the horizon. In her observations of others when visiting Caesonia, she had always known Violet to be composed, delicate but sharpâŚBut this? This was something else entirely. Watching her unravel, just enough to reveal the bruised heart beneath, stirred something in Mina that felt dangerously close to guilt. The glance Violet cast her way, full of quiet accusation wrapped in irony, didnât go unnoticed either. And perhaps it stung more than it should have.
Her fingers brushed the rim of her glass again, thoughtful now, nervous. It was like a shadow had passed behind Romanâs eyes, the same unsettling shift sheâd glimpsed earlier in Prince Callum. Not identical, no, but eerily adjacent. A false composure, like something else was holding the reins too tightly. Mina wasnât one to chase specters, they often chased her, but it wasnât paranoia if the pattern began to repeat. Her pulse ticked under her skin as she quietly replayed the glances, the words, the cracks in the mask.
What if it wasnât just Roman? What if whatever was hollowing him out had touched Callum too?
What if it was coordinated?
And gods help them⌠what if they werenât the only ones?
Mina flinched as Violet stood, her hand trembling in the air, fury dissolving into devastation. The sight cut deeper than she expected. It had only been days since she had put someone else in Violetâs position. Sheâd watched Munirâs heart break in real time when she betrayed him with carefully chosen words, thinking she was protecting him. The sting of that choice hadnât faded; it clung to her like ash, smoldering. Watching Violet unravel now wasnât just painful, it was a mirror. One she hadnât been ready to face.
Her jaw tightened, the wine in her glass sloshing from the force of her grip. She set it down carefully, deliberately, but her fingers trembled as they left the stem. Violetâs heartbreak wasnât hers to claim, but the familiarity of it made Minaâs stomach twist. And then there was Roman. Sitting there. Unbothered. Watching the girl stumble away in ruin while he picked apart dessert like it was any other evening.
Something cracked.
Without a word, she leaned toward him, her hand snapping out to grip his forearmânot gently, not playfully, but with force. Her voice was low, sharp as a blade but threaded with something fragile beneath, using Lorenzoâs distraction to her advantage. âWe need to talk.â Her eyes, usually warm and teasing, burned cold.
âNow.â
She scooted her chair out some and tugged on his arm, not rising unless he decided to indulge her.
Meanwhile, Count Sebastian Blackwood had, for a moment, entirely forgotten that anyone had spoken to him at all. His wine glass hovered just inches from his lips, untouched, as his eyes tracked the escalating drama across the tableâCalbertâs icy words, Violetâs trembling devastation, Cassiusâ volcanic fury, and Romanâs increasingly disturbing composure.
It was chaos. Refined, dangerous chaos. For a long, stretched beat, Sebastian simply watched it unfold with the strained poise of a man who had once hoped this evening would be uneventful.
Then, belatedly, his brow furrowed as something tugged at the back of his mind. A voice. A question.
Earlier, Iyen had posed a question to him, one that had piqued his interest. However, the ensuing drama had diverted his attention. Now, as he turned to respond, he noticed Iyen engaged in animated conversation. A striking redhead now had her full attention, their interaction looking far more engaging than whatever polite diplomacy he mightâve offered. Realizing the moment had passed, Sebastian offered a faint, self-deprecating smile and returned his gaze to the table.
He reached for his goblet, swirling the wine absentmindedly, the rich liquid catching the ambient light. The once-inviting banquet now felt distant, as if he were a solitary figure amidst a sea of revelry, his thoughts adrift in the undercurrents of courtly intrigue.
Her eyes had drifted again, this time not out of avoidance, but necessity. One by one, people were leaving. First Violet Damien, storming out with her jaw tight and expression shattered. Then Lorenzo, practically dragging Alexander out like a man on the edge of losing control. Charlotte, a soft blur in silk, slipped through the doors not long after them and not far behind her was another man. Then Mina Blackwood, wild-eyed and high on something Kalliope couldnât name, now had Roman by the arm, half-pleading, half-commanding as she tried to get him out of his seat.
It was all unraveling.
Every instinct in her spine screamed of something deeper, something wrong. This wasnât a feast anymoreâit was a powder keg, and someone was playing with matches.
And in the middle of it, Iyen was still smiling like this was all some casual exchange over fucking bread.
Kalliopeâs hand flexed against her glass, knuckles pale, before letting go and leaning back with a sigh. hen she finally spoke, her voice was low. Calm. Sharp-edged in the way of broken glass laid gently on silk.
Her lips quirked, dry and amused.
âYouâre a strange one,â she said softly, not quite a compliment, but not an insult either. âYou come in swinging like a drunk in a bar brawl, and now youâre giving me speeches about ghosts and brotherly loyalty.â
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Sjan-dehk, her expression flickeringâwistful, maybe. Uncertain.
âYou're not wrong,â Her voice was quieter now, stripped of the venom and sharpness. âAbout talking to him. About him thinking heâs the one who messed up.â Her voice caught slightly, just enough to betray the tension threading her chest. âI didnât mean to make him feel that way.â
She glanced back to Iyen, the faintest frown tugging at her brow. âYou say youâve looked out for him for years. Good.â She hesitated, then added, âKeep doing that. Just⌠donât mistake my instinct to protect him as some kind of rejection. If heâs smart, and I think he is, heâll understand that eventually.â
A pause, then a low huff of laughter slipped from her throat.
âAnd for the record, Iâd pay good coin to watch him try and swim back to Jafi. Might even pack him snacks.â
The humor was faint, but genuine, laced with a hint of fondness she couldnât quite choke down. Not even now.
She then eyed the offered mug like it might bite. Her brows arched slightly, not in suspicion, but something wry. Tired. She didnât reach for itâyetâbut her expression softened a fraction as she leaned her cheek into her knuckles. âYouâre really committed to this redemption arc, huh?â she murmured with dry amusement. Her gaze flicked to the mug, then back to Iyenâs face. âKeep this up and I might have to stop glaring at you every time you open your mouth.â She didnât take the drink, but the weight in her shoulders eased slightly, the edge around her mouth curving into something close to truce. Not friendship. Not yet. But maybe the first step toward something less flammable.
âThank you,â she said, and this time, she meant it. âBut keep it. I think we both need to stay sharp tonight.â
Her tone shifted just a little, softening by a degree.
âI donât know what kind of ghosts youâve had to fight off, but if they were anything like mine⌠you might want to keep your blade close, too.â
Then her eyes found Sjan-dehk, just briefly, and she held his gaze.
Not beckoning with a wave. Not calling him out loud.
JustâŚlooking.
A silent request.
A quiet pull that said, Please come here? Something might be happening. And I want you near if it does.
C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Torvi @Tae , Stratya @CitrusArms, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy M e n t i o n s :
Zarai giggled, lazy and open and entirely unbothered. âLucky me, Iâve got a high tolerance.â She paused, letting the words settle in her own mind, then added with a dramatic sigh, âWhich, in all honesty, suuuuuucks. The amount of alcohol it takes for me to catch a decent buzz? Alarming. But then againââ she lifted a finger for emphasis, âMother did not raise a bitch who backs down.â Her tone was matter-of-fact, like she were reciting the current economic state of Sorian. Not that she had the faintest clue what that was.
The declaration sparked a sudden awareness; her throat was parched, desert-dry, and her tongue felt like sandpaper that had been baking on a rooftop in the middle of an Alidasht desert. Water. She needed water. But not just any water. No, she craved a glass of chilled, crystalline perfection, kissed gently by lemon and blessed with a single, delicate slice of cucumber. Refine hydration. Elegant refreshment.
Her gaze drifted across the table, seeking salvation. She skimmed right over the sad, neglected glass already in front of her. That? That was not water. That was an insult. That was a cucumberless crime!
Then, a distraction. Torvi. Then the knight. The Torvi again. Her eyes flicked lazily between them before catching sight of a tall blond man behind them. Dressed simply in black and white, carrying two dainty cakes.
Zarai perked up and waved. âExcuse meââ
But the man didnât pause. He just gave a polite smile, a bow⌠and sat down.
She blinked, then pouted. âAw. I thought you were a servant. I wanted a cold glass of waterâŚâ Her voice trailed off into genuine disappointment, like a child realizing they were not going to the park but the doctorâs.
Then, with a sigh, she added, âEh. At least youâre pretty.â
The man looked up, a spoon already halfway to his mouth. âAh, I apologize for that, Lady Zarai.â He hesitated, amused. âAnd I appreciate the complimentâŚ?â
âYeah, yeah,â she mumbled, flapping a hand like it weighed too much, already moving on.
She stood up, etiquette be damned, and wandered away from the table, mind blissfully detached from decorum and everything around her. The dog running across the hall did catch her attention, however. She watched it nearly crash into the Alidasht side of the room. She didnât blink. Not her business. Her goal was hydration.
And then, a voice. Male. Loud. So freaking loud.
âI do not wish for Charlotte to become like one of those young Varian girls with no self-worth!â
Zarai stopped cold, turned, and spotted the source of the voice. Her eyes narrowed at the relic of an old man. Well, he was not that old, but he was now!
She pointed directly at him. âHey! Shut it, old man. Iâll make you eat your words, pendejo! You donât know shit!â
And just like that, she turned back around and kept walking, completely unbothered, as if she hadnât just threatened to serve Duke Vikena a knuckle sandwich.
She frowned to herself after he left. âNo mames⌠old man made me forget what I was doingâŚâ
Time: Evening of the 28th Location: Banquet Hall Mentions: Thea @Tae, Gideon and Victoria @princess, Ariella, @Tpartywithzombi, and Leo @Helo
Following his exchange of pointed words - quite a bit happened. It almost felt like en masse people began to vacate the banquet hall. Naturally some of them were because of chaos happening at other tables - but Drake still had this paranoid moment of âgods what if me making them leave started a domino effect.â
The most hurtful departure of all though was definitely Theaâs. The swift way she slipped apart from his grip felt like she was retreating to a place he could not follow - as if she was telling him that she wanted to be alone. As she scraped her chair and began her exit, Drake raised his hand in a futile attempt to call her back, but felt his throat clog as he went to call her name. Shortly after she rose, his sister went too. Drake followed her movements as he once again found himself at a loss for words.
Perhaps it would be best if let the women have their moment together - he trusted Ari to know how to console someone. It was a skill Drake lacked - and for better or for worse he decided it would be best to save face for the family and simply stay there. If anything it would be a good a time as any to get to know Theaâs brother. He seemed like a rather reasonable man all things considered.
âSadly what you say makes about as much sense as a fever dream. But I shan't speak out about it publicly.â Drake poured a nearby bottle of pinot noir into his chalice and took a small sip. The lord took a moment to ponder the situation - words were obviously shared in heated passion, but it reeked of undertones and hidden meanings. Like he was looking through smoked glass trying to ascertain the entire scene.
âWhile what they say on all accounts is harsh - I think there lies something deeper. Perhaps some unhidden drama we have yet to see surface.â As his speculation was voice, Charlotte parted the seas of strife and offered a solitary hug to Cassius before quickly making her exit. Soon to follow was the lover-boy himself. âLike that. It seems we are shrinking by the very second. Try not to cause anymore trouble, Sir.â He looked at Leo with a content smirk and chuckled.
âI jest. I must say it is rather intriguing to talk with you Lord Smithwood. A man of many stories and thoughts with many eloquent ways to paint the picture.â Drake placed the chalice down to turn his torso towards the other man. âAs easy as it is for me to say, I have only the most honest of intentions for your sister. This is not simply some form of courtship for the sake of courting.â He paused, searching for the right words.
âCall me a fool if you wish, but I am a man who still believes in love of the truest form - and I may yet have found that in your sister, to be perfectly frank. It honestly makes it even harder having to sport my political voice like that in front of her. But it felt like things were simply building into an inevitable topple - so I hope you understand that is not my normal state. I tend to prefer the more stoic and measured spectrum of emotion.â
Reaching for the nearby beef wellington to gracefully slide it onto his plate before continuing. âI appreciate your words earlier - having a little support in moments like those makes me feel like less of a tyrant trying to impose his will on those around him.â Drake would cut off a portion and silently offer it to Leo in a show of good faith before resuming the conversation.
âI also like to think we share the same sentiment on protecting our family through the means we find the most fitting. Itâs rather poetic in a sense.â The way he said this part seemed to carry a similar weight to what Leo had shared earlier - it wasnât necessarily a threat. More of an explanation of the lengths he would go for familyâs sake.
But despite the somber message Drake still smiled as he took a bite of the wellington. He savored the delicious meal in small bites before talking again. âIf it makes you feel any better - no words that others may share about your sister carry any weight to how I feel about her. It only proves that they are blind to the person she really is.â
Time: Evening Location: Banquet Hall Interactions: Fritz @JJ Doe; Kalliope @Tae Mentions: Charlotte @princess Appearance:IyenSjan-dehk Attire:
Sjan-dehk: Sword and pistol hanging down his right thigh Iyen: A short blade sheathed on her lower back A coil of rope across her body
Iyen pulled the mug back, her smile never leaving her face. âIf youâre sure,â she said and, holding it in both hands, took a long, noisy swig from itâjust long enough for the pleasantly sweet taste to grace and linger upon her tongue, and for casual observers to think her an idle drunk, but not long enough to truly inebriate her, however. Kali seemed to know what she was about, and if she thought that they needed to keep their wits about them, then that was what Iyen would do.
No point in letting perfectly good advice go to waste, after all.
âDuwah!â She placed the mug on the tableâagain loudlyâwith a cheer that was, if she were to be honest, only half-an-act, at most. It couldnât be helped; good drinks deserved to be savoured properly. All the more so, when they were drunk in good company. And with most of the tension between her and Kali gone, she could say with certainty that the latter was decent enough company. Decent enough for Iyen to think about taking the first steps towards friendship, at least.
And decent enough for her to, perhaps, see why Sjan-dehk might have a fondness for Kali.
A playful smile curled Iyenâs lips as she rested an elbow on the table, and her cheek in her palm. Her eyes first looked at Kali, then flitted over to Sjan-dehk. âYou know,â she began slowly, and in a low voice. With the index finger of her other hand, she drew aimless circles on the tablecloth. âThe only reason I know you were trying to protect him by rejecting him is because you told me. Oh, and youâre an amazing actress, by the way!â She giggled. âI guess thatâs why I, as you put it, came in swinging like a drunk in a brawl.â
After a quick sip from the mug, she continued. âBut anyway,â she said with a wry smirk. âYouâre right about Sjan-dehk being smart, but heâs not smart in everything, you know? In sailing, heâs a genius. But in things likeâŚâ Her words trailed off into silence, and she pointed at Sjan-dehk, then at Kali. âI think you know what Iâm talking about, hm? When it comes to things like that, heâs a complete idiot. Heâs just going to think that you rejected him and get upset about it.â
She paused to let her words sink in.
âYouâre right about one other thing, though. Heâll figure it out, eventually.â Sitting back, she grinned at Kali, a knowing glint in her eyes. âBut it might take a decade or so for that to happen. If you ask me, I think itâll be easier on everyone to just tell him everything plainly.â
Iyen swept her gaze across the hall once more. She still had no idea as to what she should be looking out for, but she knew what she sawânobles leaving in ones and twos. Some quietly, others with quite a bit of fanfare and raised voices. Two men, in particular, were noticed by Iyen. One was obviously angry, and had left in a furore, whilst the other was markedly much more calm. A little too calm, perhaps, given the heat of the situation. Did he know something everyone else didnât? Or was he simply used to such uproars?
A furrow rippled across Iyenâs brow as she followed the two men with her eyes as they left the hall. And in the process, she also caught sight of the pale girlâthe one who Sjan-dehk had been talking toâstumbling after them with hurried, unsteady steps. There was urgency in her movements. Was one of the men one of her family members? A father, maybe? Or a brother?
Tension slowly built in the air, drawing taut like a bowstring over everyoneâs heads.
âHm.â Iyen hummed, then shook her head. She had to relax. If something truly was afoot, then she wasnât being helpful by making it so clear that she was keeping a keen eye on things. No, the silly she appeared, and the more careless she seemed, the better.
And so, she giggled, and took another long drink from the mug. Her hands, however, remained ready to fly to her arms at a momentâs notice. Her ears stayed sharp, and tried to pick out anything that even sounded remotely suspicious around her. And when Iyen slammed the mug back onto the table, she made sure she leaned back with an air of inattentiveness about her. An air of being not much more than a decoration.
She grinned inwardly. Maybe this feast wouldnât be so boring, after all.
Sjan-dehk watched Charlotte leave, the suddenness and surprise of it all having momentarily stunned him into silence and inaction. Only a few moments had passed since sheâd shared with him her suspicions that sheâd been poisoned, and in a voice so laden with worry, so laden with unease, that heâd seen little reason to believe that sheâd been anything but dead serious, no less. That she could even identify a few possible herbs as the poison, just from her symptoms, had simply added more weight to her words.
Granted, none of the herbs sheâd listed were familiar to himânot with their Caeonian names, at leastâbut poison was poison. Whatever they were, they couldnât be good. They certainly couldnât be something to be allowed to run rampant through a body until a time when treatment was convenient.
And yet, as Charlotte tottered after the two noblemen leaving the banquet hall, that appeared to be exactly what she was doing. It wasnât as if sheâd gotten any better. If anything, the opposite was true; her gait was swaying, and her steps awkward. A particularly strong breeze would be enough to make her keel over, by the looks of things.
âCharlotte,â Sjan-dehk called out to her as he stood up from his seat, but sheâd already left. With furrowed brows, he made to follow her. Before he managed even a handful of steps, however, someone else cut in front of him.
âI am terribly sorry we havenât been properly introduced, Captain, I do hope weâll remedy that soon.â It was a manânoble, by the looks of itâwho greeted him with a quick bow. He was one of those whom Charlotte had hugged earlier. That made him a friend of hers, then. Sjan-dehk stopped in his tracks, and gave him a curt nod. Itâd be better for someone with whom she was more familiar to attend to her.
âJust make sure sheâs fine,â he said, tilting his chin towards Charlotte, and stepped aside to allow the man to pass. Even so, he kept watch over the girl, his face scrunched up in concern, until she disappeared into the darkness beyond the doorway. Then, he looked away.
And just so happened to meet Kalliopeâs gaze.
It was strange, really. Even though heâd only just told himself to put down whatever feelings he had for her, to accept that ultimately, none of it mattered, just one look from her; one glance into those beautiful, green eyes of hers, was enough to turn that resolve into dust. And that look in them; a look that strummed on his heartstrings as if it were a zither; a look that asked for him, that pulled him towards her, was the wind that scattered that dust into nothingness.
And so, he picked up his hat, and approached.
âKali,â he greeted with a nod, trying to sound as casual as possible. He had to remember; whatever he felt for her wasnât important. They were, at the end of the day, inconsequential. All he would achieve by letting them run wild in his mind, would be to come between her and Cassius, and that wouldnât be right. It would be going against the Way.
He cleared his throat and looked to Iyen. âAh, is Iyen bothering you?â
âRude!â Iyen protested with mock indignation. Then, she laughed quietly. âWell, I guess youâre not entirely wrong, this time. I was, maybe, perhaps, disturbing her a little, but I think weâre fine now!â Her eyes flicked over to Kalliope, then back to him. âWe were just talking about ghosts, and how there might be some with us here, today.â
Sjan-dehk arched his brows. That euphemism wasnât lost on him. âGhosts, is it?â He repeated, a wry smirk on his face. âAnd here I thought weâd made enough of those to get them to leave us alone.â
âWell, Kali here thinks weâd best be careful,â Iyen replied. âAnd I trust her judgement.â
âAs do I,â Sjan-dehk said with a nod, and turned to Kalliope. There was a marked air of concern about her, one that was enough to make him want to put a quick end to whatever it was that troubled her. âWeâll keep an eye out, Kali.â His tone was reassuring, as was his smile. And as was the hand he gently placed on her bare shoulder.
A moment passed, and then he finally realised what he was doing. With a blush creeping over his cheeks, he quickly pulled his hand back. âAh, sorryââ
âStop apologising!â Iyen cut in quickly, and looked between him and Kalliope, a cattish grin curling her lips, and a mischievous glint in her eyes. âIâm sure Kali didnât mind that,â she said. âIsnât that right, Kali?â
Once they were alone on the balcony, Olivia turned to face Kazumin. She could feel the dark magic flowing through her veins. There was a slight shimmer in the air and she struggled to see beyond it. All she could see was black and red. Olivia raised her hand and the shimmer began to curl around her hands. She turned to Kazumin, and took a deep breath. It was not perceptible to Kazuminâshe didnât dare let anyone else be able to see it, lest she be murdered then and there. She ensured she couldnât be overheard, either.
âFrom the time I was born, I could always feel this⌠This urge, this dark magic calling to me.â Her voice was hushed, as she looked away. She couldnât bear to read his expression. âAs a kid, I never knew what it wasâthere was this lingering feeling that something, something was missing. This hunger, unsatisfied by food, was always there. My parents started showing me magic when I was a little kid. I didnât really understand it. It was something cool that could happenâsummoning fire above your palm, shooting ice out of your hands, talking to animals, affecting emotions, changing your hair color; all sorts of things. I wasn't allowed to talk about it to others, even you. My parents told me theyâd know if I did, so I never could.â Olivia took a deep breath, and then continued.
âWe didnât swell on it alot. My mother, though, was always using it around the house, and sometimes Iâd see her with dark shadows around her. I didn't think much of it. I didnât know. I was too young.â Liv laughed bitterly. Every time we tried to do something else, or whatever, bad luck would happen. My mother seemed like she was a magnet for it, then me too. I just figured we were dealt bad cards in life. I kinda got used to just havinâ bad luck everywhere.â
"It was just the norm, till my dad got fired from the castleâhe was a mess, a mixture of fury, disgust, desperation, and insanity. He was rambling a bunch and shielded whatever it was from me. My mom was grief stricken that he was fired because that was our income. Then, as you know, I disappeared from life. We tried and tried and tried to make money otherwise and it just wasn't happenin. The magic usage in our house increased by tenfold. Our bakery was struggling cause we didnât have ingredients to make anything out of. The paranoia from the magic was suffocating. My mom and dad began using dark magic and forced me to start it too. Then, it was like the lightbulb went onâmy hunger was becoming rapidly satisfied and unsatisfied. I finally realized why I was so, so, hungry all the time, even after eating all the food out of the fridge.â
âAnd so, you know, the bakery burned downâI was trying to sneak some bread, was starvin, losin weight and not bein able to do nothin about it. I was bein all sneaky and shit, till Asherâs crew came and spooked me. A fight broke out and I used fire magic, something I seem to have an affinity for usingâŚâ Liv gulped and wiped her teary eyes. A laugh escaped her slightly insane and sarcastic. â...And I accidentally burned down our bakery, and ended up with no food, and now enemies on the street. I ran, ran like the wind, to get the hell away, but when I came home all sooty and ashy, even with washing out in the river, my parents punished meâby forcing me to use more dark magic. I became obsessed with it over time. Using it once was too much, ten times was never enough.â
Olivia turned to Kazumin now, and for a moment, her pupils briefly turned black. âDo you know,â her voice came out in a low hiss. âHow hard is it to sit in that room, listenin to that pig of a king belittle and criticize people? The dumbass has had a silver spoon up his arse entire life. These despicable royals sit there, with all this food thatâll get tossed and never given to the poor, the poor who suffer all the time and starve? The fuckinâ poor who eat acorns and dig through the trashâthe person I was before meeting Charlotte?â Black tendrils began visibly wrapping around her. âThey sit on their high fuckinâ horses, mocking and fighting each other over fuck knows what. Those Danroses.. They expect us to kiss their asses because they were born with a silver spoon up their asses. And Calbert? He sits there actin like he never did nothin to us this entire fuckinâ feast. Fuckinâ asshole.â
She clenched her fists and visibly began trembling. âHe ruined my familyâs fuckinâ lives, that bastard of a king. Why? I have no idea, but Iâm going to fuckin find out. And you know somethin, too? Asteroth. He fuckinâ wouldnât let me see you after my parents died. Did you know that? Did you know I was shooed away by him with a broom like I was some fuckinâ stray cat? Yeah, Kazâthat arsehole kept our friendship apart,â Olivia dug her nails into her hands, almost hard enough to draw blood.
âTime and time again, life has told me Iâm not wanted here, three, nowhere. Always shooed away, always denied the pleasures of life. Sleeping in a tree, or in a barn with my horse who got more food than me, always. The only good thing goin for me is this stupid facade I can barely hold down. Actin all prissy and noble, with manners. Pretending to be someone Iâm not and you know what? People already fuckin know who I amâsome masked dick at the ball. Who the fuck was he, I donât fuckin know. I bet Calbert does know too. Who fuckin cares when thereâs people starvin, getting murdered the slums, beaten up cause they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Getting kicked outta places, unable to make a livin and barely livin, and hopin they arenât killed in their sleep. Yâknow how many times I had to evade Asherâs gang, only to come home and listeninâ to my parents yellinâ and fighting using magic and drugs and alcohol to get by? There is no hope in this world. Everywhere fuckinâ sucks.â The black tendrils weaved around her like ribbons, curling this way and that. Fortunately, it was only visible to those two.
âIt's only a matter of time till Iâm kicked out of here too. I should just back to the fuckin slums and deal with life on my own before I fuck this up too. Only a matter of time till the bad luck train comes back. You should save yourself and stay the fuck away from me. All of you. Iâm going to jinx your fuckin lives at some point. Kaz, you should stay away.â
Olivia slowly, and finally looked up at him, her eyes searching for a trace of him denying her desperation and pleas. Tears welled up in her eyes and began sliding down her cheeks. As soon as they rolled off her face, they disintegrated into black wisps. Her pupils kept switching from their normal green to flecks of black. She grabbed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
Hala timed it perfectly. Moonlight caught the gold threads in their turquoise robes as they stepped into view, making their entrance divine. They lived for these momentsâthe sharp intake of breath, the widening eyes, the beautiful disruption they caused simply by existing. Tonight was no exception.
âWell, well... what do we have here? Tonightâs divas drinking straight from the bottle like alcoholics?â Halaâs heels clicked a rhythm against the stone as they approachedâclick, click, clickâeach step a reminder that they were that b*tch. âMay I join this tragic gathering, or is this pity party invitation-only?â
Without waiting for an answer, they took the wine bottle from Theaâs hand. âYou know what I adore about both your mothers?â A pause, then a generous swig before continuing, âAbsolutely nothing. Theyâre magnificent c*nts. Perfectly coiffed, viciously proper, and theyâve spent decades perfecting the art of saying âIâm disappointed in youâ with just a single eyebrow raise.â
Rings chimed against glass as they passed the bottle back, the sound as sharp as their smirk. âYou realize theyâve designed the game so you canât win?â
Their robes caught the windâor perhaps the wind caught their robesâturning turquoise silk into living flame that licked and coiled around their form. âSo hereâs my revolutionary suggestion: stop playing. Stop caring about their approval. Youâre already failures in their eyesâso why not be spectacular failures? Go full disaster. Do you have any idea how much youâve been holding back all because you were trying to be good little daughters?â
A scoff rolled off their tongue. âLike thatâs done either of you any favors.â
Moving with feline grace, Hala stalked a circle around the two women. âThe trick isnât avoiding their venom; itâs developing immunity to itâ,â their eyes glittered dangerously, ââand then learning to extract it and serve it right back to them.â
Mischief curved their lips. âGive them something worth talking about. Make them choke on their own standards. Let them see exactly what beautiful disasters theyâve created.â
Time: Evening Location: Banquet Hall Mentions / Interactions: @FunnyGuy Alexander, Lorenzo @princess Charlotte, @JJ Doe Count Fritz
Cassius stood there for a long moment, staring at the space where Charlotte had just been.
The scent of her perfume still lingered on his coat, faint and floral, and it clawed at something buried too deep for him to name. The way she had gripped him... the way her voice had broken when she said she would be back... it hadnât felt like someone chasing gossip or justice. It felt more like someone chasing ghosts.
And all around him, the feast carried on. Silverware clinked against porcelain, laughter resumed at half-volume, and the royals whispered behind half-hidden fans and wine glasses, but Cassius didnât care. Not anymoreâŚnot tonight.
Because something was wrong with Charlotte.
The signs were no longer subtle. The trembling, the pale skin, the glazed eyes... whatever haunted her wasnât imagined. And he had ignored the first signsâŚchalked it up to emotion, or alcohol, or just the sheer mess of the eveningâŚbut no, this was different. This was danger.
And now she was gone, alone, chasing after her stepfather and that bastard vampire like it was some secret she had to uncover. His jaw clenched as he thought about it. About what Lorenzo had said... or implied. About Alexander and Charlotte. It didnât make sense. It didnât line up with what he knew of her... what he felt about her. But now wasnât the time to question it. He filed the confusion away, cold and tight, like a blade tucked against the small of his back. Something to draw later.
He turned without another word and followed.
The hallway stretched before him, empty and dim, lit only by lamplight. He moved silently, steps fluid and precise, the sound of his boots swallowed by velvet carpet and instinct. It didnât take long to find her.
She was pressed against the wall, just outside a shut door. Fritz was beside her, crouched low, listening through a tumbler of glass. The sight shouldâve been ridiculous, but there was nothing funny about the way Charlotteâs arms wrapped around herself, like she was the only thing holding her body together.
He approached slowly, not wanting to startle her... and yet, the moment he reached her, she flinched anyway.
His hand found her shoulder, warm and steady.
"Lottie..." His voice was quiet, gentler than anyone had heard from him that night. "You shouldnât be here. Not like this."
He didnât offer enough time for a response.
"I know you think whateverâs happening behind that door matters, and maybe it does... But right now, it doesnât matter more than you." His eyes flicked briefly toward Fritz full of concern, then back to her. "You look like you're about to fall over... your skinâs cold, your hands are shaking. Whateverâs happening to you... itâs not going to wait until you get the answers you want."
He took both of her hands in his again, holding them between his palms.
"Come with me. Please. Just for a little while... let me make sure youâre alright."
Farim listened to Hafizâs typical tirade about the separation of the elite from the common man. It was like hearing one's least favorite arrangement from a band they already despised. Rather than bicker, he let the man have his golden pedestal of status and values - no sense in punching a wall that will likely not fall with brute strength alone. But that is when he heard a distinct protest his head turn on a swivel with shock written over his face that slowly changed into a poorly held chuckle.
âTell me, Grand Vizier, have you ever actually been invited to a party⌠or do you just stand outside of them brooding about how people are enjoying themselves too much?â
Gods, are you trying to win me over even more, Anastasia? Telling off my father at a public event? How...alluring in a strange yet satisfying way. Despite his starry-eyed look, he carried a hint of concern for how his father may react. He hated being talked down to, especially if the âtalkerâ was a woman. Farim sat ready to retort in case his father got too out of hand.
The preceding events, however, seemed to give way to an entirely different altercation. Hafiz at the present moment paid no mind to their âdrivelâ as he would likely call it. Farimâs attention to detail caught the way Hafiz stared at a certain woman as she entered the room - and quickly fell. This garnered a mixed bag of reactions - from Farim it was mainly a slight wince with a slightly audible âthat must have hurtâŚâ But then the manâs eyes turned towards his father and that telltale smirk. Ah so this is what my father was glistening with joy over. He must have seen her in attending this banquet and is dreaming all kinds of sick little fantasies. God what a creep.
Farim grimaced and took a long sip from his wine. âWell I am glad you could give your approval for such an event, Hafiz. Even if it was in the most roundabout way possible - I will make sure to commemorate you in some way.â Yet before more theatrics could continue between the two, yet more trouble brewed at the center table. Words were exchanged, the taller man that Farim knew as Roman was chuckled haughtily while berating another woman - a certainly odd move on his part. âSurely I did not misread him?â Farim said aloud, but softly. The Shehzade missed the next part largely in part due to Hala introducing Nahir to Nadim for what was likely not the first time. Nadimâs slobbering kiss against Nahirâs refined and poised self was likely going to cause a reaction - so Farim quickly flashed a leg of lamb at the dog with a slightly teasing wiggle of his hand. âYou know you want it~.â He said with a grin - hoping to ease the animal off his cousin. Yet while this treat dangled beneath the table cloth, Anastasia burst up with chicken leg in hand.
âIf you bully my sweet little brother againâTHEN I WILL NOT BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE!â
Confusion flashed across his face, then he simply decided to run with it. âThat will teach him - friendship status with a princess like yourself is a rather huge deal, no?â
While Charlotte made her move to hug Cassius, Farim gently tugged at Anastasiaâs sleeve with a friendly grin. âPerhaps he is having issues at home and this is the cause of his outburst? It is written plain as day along his face the man seems to be going through some things. But may I also share something with you?â He waited for her to take her seat and leaned in to whisper just so she would hear.
âI do not know how to say this properly - but whatever it is that is standing there, it does not appear to be your brother. His flesh, yes. His clothes, yes. Even his face, yes. But there is something sinister about his demeanor - call it a hunch but I would like your opinion on this. Is that really your brother? You may answer later, I shall cover this with another question to make everyone lessâŚ.suspicious?â He realized that such a long sentence prolonged into a hushed whisper may garner a few raised brows from the nearby seats at the table. So he chose to cough lightly and restore his posture.
âSorry - such gruesome details of Alidasht court are not my favorite thing to discuss. But now that you know how we have typically handled such outbursts in the past. How is it your royalty deals with such moments? Aside from the Queen brandishing blade and threat - will there be more to come of this or shall this be swept under the rug?â
His questions, while probing, were also meant as both a curiosity of his own and something to distract the present group from his current concern. Who the hell is that man that is claiming himself to be Prince Callum - because Farim had spent a few nights socializing with the man, and either the people of Caessonia are suffering from mass dissociative identity disorder, or there are some shady political shenanigans at play. Either way, Farim was going to uncover these little secrets if he could. If nothing else, at least the food was good and he was in mostly pleasant company.
Time:5:30 p.m., before this evening's events Location: Deacon Residence Interaction: Benjamin Mention:The Dove
Far from the lively, drama-filled banquet at the castle that would only serve to birth rumors and raise tension, Lianna was seated comfortably in front of the warmth of her fireplace. Her visage and intentions were juxtaposed to the dancing flames her gaze remained affixed to, dark and lacking any semblance of warmth. Her inability to see did not hinder her ability to lock eyes with the center of the fire with the waves of heat gently tempting her to blink.
Silent and hands rested comfortably in her lap, the wife of Alexander Deacon was patiently anticipating something. And so, she was left only with her thoughts.
Why did you let her take it so easily, my love? In exchange for this? And whose interest does it even serve? Marekâs? The familiarâs? Your own?
Lianna furrowed her brow and softly shook her head in an attempt to deny any ill feelings toward her husband's actions. She was not in favor of his plan, yet she felt obligated to play an essential part in it. Still, she could not help but wonder if he had his own ulterior motives. Motives that played against everyone on the board, including herself. She didn't think he'd dare to ever consider such a thing yet⌠he rid himself of the ring. It was a magical artifact that aided him in curbing his vampiric nature. It kept him sharp but with feeling. It retained that beautiful piece of humanity within him. It reminded her that he still loved her the way he always had.
The man who sat in the royal dining hall was just a monster with a charming smile and honeyed words. It wasn't merely a side of him or an alter ego. Right now, Alexander was the same man stripped of the parts, leaving only his ambition. A dangerous thing, like a silent garrote that was once an elegant violin string.
The sudden croaking of a raven outside the window pulled Liannaâs attention from the fireplace. Deliberately, she faced a looming figure standing beside her, a tall black-bearded man wearing an overcoat and tophat.
âBenjamin. It's time. We need to perform this quickly,â Lianna urged softly. Benjamin had been nothing but polite since his arrival and assisted her around the home without a hint of fuss. Just as there were those born to lead, there were those born to serve.
Benjamin wasted no time, walking up to the fireplace with Charlotte Vikenaâs blue hair ribbon in his right hand, and a slip of paper with a drawing depicting the face of a despairing woman howling upward while clawing at her own face in his left. He tossed items into the flames.
âAs you requested, mâlady,â He said, his tone plain and steady. Lianna gave an affirmative nod and took a breath before she began. This was not something foreign, nor was it something she feared. Whether it be gods or demons that bestowed such a gift to her, she dedicated its use for only one man.
âLady Vikena. I would ask you to forgive me if this hits you harder than normal but⌠I do this with malice. Mentis Fractura!â
C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G I n t e r a c t i o n s : Farim @Lava Alckon , Anastasia @princess , Rohit @Helo , Kira @Potter, Nadim @JJ Doe M e n t i o n s : Hala's Stinky Dog
Nahirâs fingers twitched around her wine glass, but she gave no other reaction to her uncleâs words. You know nothing about me, Uncle. The thought burned in her throat, but she simply raised the glass to her lips and sipped the rich red liquid. She had lost more than he would ever care to know. Two brothers sheâd looked up to, followed like she was their little duckling, two lights snuffed out by his hands. How many more brothers had he taken? How many more would he take?
From the corner of her eyes, she watched him. Her stomach dropped when his gaze lingered on Kira a second too long. Kira was clever. She had to sense the danger coiled beneath Hafizâs words, his glances, his thoughts. Still, Nahir couldnât stop the churn in her gut.
She caught the look from Farim, but didnât return it. He was something of a visionary; she admired that his father had not yet managed to crush that out of him. Hope had its uses, after all. It could keep the peopleâs spirits alive just long enough to get the real work done. And for that, blood would have to spill.
A thrill sparked in her chest. She couldnât help but feel excited for it.
âMy Gods, your father sounds dreadfully boring.â
Nahir bit her tongue, caught off guard. She swallowed a laugh behind her wineglass. Anastasia was becoming increasingly delightful.
âIndeed.â She smiled, eyes glinting with amusement. âIâve seen statues with more rhythm. Perhaps that is why heâs so often seated. Gravity and grace are rarely friends.â
In the end, Nahir agreed to join their little party, not purely out of generosity but out of spite. Hafizâs displeasure alone made it worth it. She even offered some of her own coin. Perhaps sheâd even play an instrument for the poor, grace them with real royalty.
She watched Hafiz closely, his attention stolen by someone far off. The twitch of his jaw. The cold amusement. The way he looked at the woman, not like a person, but a possession. A toy he had discarded, now unwilling to see it in anotherâs hands. It made her skin crawl. Disgust bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
Nahir had to speak with that woman. Why did he look at her that way? How did they know each other?
She took another long sip of wine, praying the alcohol would dull the buzzing questions and dark imagining storming in her mind.
And then, as if the night hadnât already taken enough strange turns, the center of the hall seized the crown for drama.
Nahirâs golden gaze darted between two scenes, Leoâs sister and Duchess Edwards in one corner, Lord Ravenwood and the Damien bastard in another. It seemed Varianâs mandatory attendance had brought a sour wind to Caesoniaâs banquet. Then again, what royal gathering was complete without a duel or a scandal or two?
She smirked into her glass as Queen Alibeth stood, commanding silence not with words, but by the sheer act of rising. What a woman, Nahir thought.
A hush fell over the hall like a creeping mist. But in Caesoni, nothing stayed quiet for long.
âYou look absolutely stunning tonight. I do appreciate your generous invite here. Thank you.â
Nahir turned, smiling easily. Her earrings chimed like wind chimes in a summer breeze as she inclined her head.
âI am glad you came. Or else youâd have missed tonightâs theatrics. It almostââ
CRASH!
Duck, pork, and ribs went flying as a dog leapt onto the table between them. Her wine glass shattered on the floor as Nadim planted both massive paws on her shoulders, nearly toppling her. She swallowed the shriek bubbling in her throat and braced herself on the chair, which, by some miracle, held both her and the beast.
Then came the licking. Slobbery, relentless licking.
âNadim, down!â she barked, but the dog was undeterred, happily nibbling her cheeks as though they were lifelong friends.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted them.
Hala. With that pathetic little wiggle-wave.
You. Bitch.
The shriek burst out of her as she shoved Nadim, all of Nadim, onto Hafiz. The dogâs paws landed squarely on his plate, sending wine, food, and sweets splattering across his regal robes. She was fairly certain everyone in their vicinity had been caught in the splash zone, but those were casualties she was willing to sacrifice for this.
Nahir gasped dramatically, hands flying to her mouth as she leapt to her feet, âNadim, no! Bad dog. Off the table! Where did Hala go?â
She tugged at Nadimâs stuff, half-heartedly. After a few futile attempts, she called over the knights standing nearby to come and remove the dog from the table as she did her best to wipe off the food from Hafizâs robes. âHala should know better than to bring that thing here.
Gideonâs eyes tracked Theaâs departure in silence, the edges of his expression pulled taut with concern. There was something raw in the way she moved, in the way her hand curled around that bottle like it was the only thing still steady in her world. He recognized that kind of quiet unraveling.
Not theatrical. Not attention-seeking. Just... wounded.
And proud enough to bleed behind a curtain of grace. Slowly, Gideon shifted his gaze to Drake. It was the kind of look that didnât require words. A look that said: Sheâs your heart. Go.
He then watched Ariella rise and follow after. His daughterâs strength had always impressed him, but he also knew its cost. Heâd seen how it hardened her, how it isolated her. He smiled kindly and proudly as she murmured her intention to check on Thea, Gideon gave a single nod, slow and approving.
He followed her gaze brieflyâcaught the glimmer of her longing when her eyes lingered on Callum, and then the stiffness in her spine when she noticed him instead. Milo. Even across the room, Gideon caught how his presence cooled the air around her like frost on glass.
Then she was gone too, disappearing toward the doors with Thea, two young women wrapped in shared silence and secondhand grief. Gideon leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he exhaled through his nose. The table was quieter now. The tension less theatrical, more sullen.
He cast one another glance toward Drake, his son now sitting at the epicenter of yet another storm he hadnât caused but had no choice but to weather. Gideon offered him the faintest smile. âIf they return happy,â he murmured under his breath, âIâll consider this evening a win.â
Gideon didnât interrupt as Leo and Drake then engaged in discussion.
He simply leaned back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his wine as the two young men spoke.
A subtle lift of his brow followed Drakeâs confession, and there was a quiet flicker of something proud in his eyesânot because of the love speech, but because of the way he spoke from his heart.
But beneath that quiet pride, something far heavier settled deep in Gideonâs chest, drawing him painfully inward. It was the ache that only comes when love becomes regret, and regret becomes infinite mourning. In that moment, the air turned cold around him, pulling him back into memories heâd tried to bury beneath layers of duty and decorumâmemories of laughter caught between secretive glances, of quiet whispers exchanged in the shadowed corners of the palace gardens, hidden carefully behind ivy and moonlight.
He remembered the stolen nights, the hours slipping by in each otherâs quiet company, believingânaively, desperatelyâthat they had all the time in the world. He remembered the softness of his smile, the way those eyesâgentle yet strongâhad made Gideon feel impossibly seen, and how, in every quiet pause, the words had hovered, always just out of reach.
But he had never spoke them. Heâd been too afraid. Afraid of scandal. Afraid of what it might mean to put words to something that felt impossibly fragile. Heâd been convinced there would always be tomorrow. Another night beneath the stars. Another chance.
As his daughter spoke, each syllable cut sharper than the last, her words carved from agony that cut him deep. He watched her with a stillness that belied the storm beneath his skin. His fingers, gloved and resting on the tablecloth, twitched, restraining the primal urge to tear Roman Ravenwood apart at the seams. Not for the insult alone. No, Calbert had endured slander, threats, and even assassination attempts without batting an eye.
But thisâthis was something else.
This was his daughter, his Violet, standing before a court of wolves with her heart bleeding into her gown, trying to mask anguish, speaking truths that no child of his should have to arm themselves with. And all the while, that smug bastard across the table sat with a smile on his lips, as if he hadnât just gutted her publicly.
Calbertâs jaw clenched with enough force to crack bone. The Count did not interrupt Violet. He would not steal this moment of power from her. But make no mistake, every word she uttered was etched into his soul like a vow, and when she was done, when she had carved her name back into the courtâs memory with her own fire and grit, Calbert Damien would see to it that every man who dared twist her pain into performance paid with interest. Roman had started a game he did not understand.
His gaze cut to Callum the moment the princeâs voice turned its ire toward Cassius. His hand stilled mid-motion, the weight of his wine goblet suddenly too light to justify movement. For a heartbeat, he said nothingânot out of fear, but calculation. Calbertâs fury didnât roarâit simmered, slow and patient like coals.
He dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin, folded it with care, and sat still even as Cassius reacted rashly.
Callumâs defense of Roman gnawed at him, not because the prince spoke harshly, but because it made absolutely no sense. That boy, Edinâs royal problem child, was suddenly aligning himself with decrees of abuse? Passionately? And for what? To champion a man who had just embarrassed an innocent noblewoman with a smirk and a bite of ribs? Uncharacteristic didnât even begin to describe it. Callum never threw his weight behind those who were this deeply immoral. Unless... unless it wasn't weight he was throwing, but a shield.
And Ravenwood was also different.
He had always been composed, yesâbut never cruel. Calbertâs mind clicked into motion, each word, each glance, each laugh at the table slotting into place like a poisoned puzzle. Calbertâs fingers curled slowly around the stem of his glass, thoughts sharp as daggers behind his composed facade. Something was different, and the prince and the brute were just the first to tip their hands.
Nonetheless, Calbert found a sliver of grim satisfaction in watching Cassius riseâhowever recklesslyâin defense of his family. That fire, however misguided, was still his blood. Seeing his son stand behind Violet, even while unraveling, struck a chord Calbert rarely allowed himself to feel. He had already braced himself to intervene, to take the full weight of the court's onslaught as the notion of a duel was offered. Yet before he could act, it was Alexander Deacon who stepped in.
The count gaze narrowed, the faintest crease forming between his brows. The moment Cassius began to adhere to Alexanderâs words, something twisted in the countâs chestânot relief, but confusion. Then a loud yell caught his attention.
Calbertâs gaze snapped cleanly to the source, his spine straightening as Lorenzo Vikena stormed forward, his voice slicing through the hum of murmured nobles and clinking silver. The outburst was not entirely unexpectedâLorenzo had always been a creature of emotion wrapped in poor breeding.
He was already preparing to dismiss the drama when movement caught his eyeâCharlotte.
Her movements as she moved toward Cassius werenât frantic or calculated. No, they were humanâdisarmingly honest, and that made them all the more dangerous. Then she hugged him, and Cassius let her.
Calbert studied them like a man reading a page he didnât remember writing.
âAs the king decrees I acquiesce. I shall not pursue courtship with Lady Violet Damien until it is otherwise allowed by the powers that be. Am I of the understanding that these wishes apply to Lady Crystal Damien as well?â
Calbert Damien's jaw tightened, muscles beneath his skin taut as iron wire, and his eyes fell on Roman with outrage. The words obviously cut deep into poor Violet, and soon she was leaving with her mother in tow. The table's chaos blurred into irrelevance, each word and face fading away, until all he saw was Roman Ravenwoodâs damned, insufferable smile. It was not the smug grin alone that angered himâno, he'd faced arrogance plenty of timesâbut the very fact that Roman never let it waver. The brute met every barb, every accusation, every cut to his reputation with that infuriatingly calm expression, a mask so transparent in its hostility that it was almost laughable.
Almost.
Because Calbert Damien knew better.
He recognized the game Roman was playing. The moment Roman had caught himself and changed direction upon seeing Charlotte hug Cassius had revealed some of his cards to the count, if only for a moment.
To stand before oneâs enemies, smiling as if in celebration, while secretly letting the world burn at your feet was not madness; it was strategy. Roman was purposely instigating chaos, offering up his relationship with Violet, taunting Alexander, provoking Calbert himselfâevery step choreographed to ignite tension and fracture the banquet into chaos. But why? What could Roman possibly gain by alienating every ally and making enemies of powerful houses at a single stroke?
UnlessâŚRoman was not the one gaining from it at all.
Calbertâs eyes narrowed slowly, the realization sliding like ice into his veins. His pupils darkened, and the faintest curl twisted the edge of his mouth, a smile without warmth, without humorâjust quiet, patient cruelty waiting to bloom.
After all, the Count of Montague had never been one to enjoy playing chess without all the pieces.
He leaned back slightly, posture relaxed, almost casual, yet the subtle stillness of his form radiated a silent threat. His fingertips, barely visible beneath the tableâs edge, drummed a slow, steady rhythm on his thigh. It was a small, insignificant movement, yet the repetition held the quiet promise of knives sharpened in shadow.
He felt a familiar darkness stir in his chest. Paranoiaâs sweet poison rising to meet fury's slow burn. Someone thought they could puppeteer Ravenwood, turn him loose to strike at his family, mock him, wound him, and escape unseen. Someone believed themselves clever enough to manipulate the board without his notice, like a spider creeping into anotherâs web.
But Calbert Damien was not simply clever.
He was mercilessly brilliant.
Though he was certainly furious, beneath it all there was something else: excitement. An ugly thrill he rarely indulged, the dark joy of having a true rival worthy of ruin.
He would peel away every shadow, every whispered order, every hidden face. He would follow the strands until the puppet master had nowhere left to run. And then he would destroy themânot swiftly, not cleanly, but with agonizing deliberation, leaving their ruin behind as a warning.
No one touched his family without paying in blood.
His gaze settled again on Roman, on the façade that man wore with such practiced ease, and Calbertâs cold, hollow smile widened just a fraction moreârevealing nothing yet promising everything.
Calbert Damien did not simply play chess.
He flipped the board and slit the throat of whoever dared try to take his pieces.
Keep smiling, Ravenwood...Smile while you can. I promise, I will find the one holding your chains. And when I do, neither you nor they will find reason to smile ever again.
The entrance hall. Cold, quiet, and empty it was as the two men briskly stepped through its doors. Lorenzo was still leading Alexander who took a watchful look around for anything unusual upon entry.
âHere?â Alexander offered but he phrased it like a question. He felt almost bored about how easy it was to control this man.
âHere?!â Lorenzo questioned, whipping around to face Alexander who simply wore his signature grin.
âYes⌠here,â he replied, tempering his frustration. Lorenzo narrowed his eyes and appeared as if he was thinking a little too hard about the placement.
âNo!â he refused, taking a single step back. âHere!â
You fucking dolt! He took a step forward Lorenzo.
âPerfect. Now, what exactly is our issue, Duke Vikena?â Alexander wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible but unfortunately, Lorenzo wasn't of the same mind. In fact, he wanted to be as thorough as possible about this whole situation regarding Charlotte. Whether heâd actually accomplish what he wanted was truly up to him. This was Duke Lorenzo Vikena after all. He gave Alexander a good once over before adjusting his own posture, straightening up, and holding his head high.
âDonât pretend to be foolish! You know exactly what this is about!â
âI⌠I don't, your grace⌠If it's about your shares with the Black Rose Trading Company, your hefty investment is more than secure, I assure you.â Alexander figured he could lighten the tension by changing the subject entirely to something he figured the Duke might be drawn to. A gamble but the slight glimmer in Lorenzoâs eyes brought forth optimism in his decision.
âOh!â Lorenzoâs demeanor shifted sharply. âHmm⌠let's discuss this matter quickly and then we can talk about you and Charlotte.â And just like that, Lorenzo was disarmed.
What about her? What did she tell him?
âAs you wish, your grace. You see, the company has seen nothing but rapid growth since its humble beginning, all thanks to you. And even now, despite our main office relocating here to Sorian, Veirmontâs beautiful ports are still filled with vessels waving our flag. Lord Delronzo is quite grateful for your many contributions.â
âOh⌠is he?â Lorenzo questioned, recalling the businessman being far too busy to arrange an official meeting with him in the past.
âOf course! We're even thinking of naming one of our vessels after you⌠The Lorenzo, just picture it.â He said as if there was magic in the words. Sure, it was a lie, but this was beginning to become rather fun for Alexander.
âHmm⌠The Duke!â Lorenzo offered the name with weight in his voice.
Is he..? The Duke?
âThe Duke! A perfect name! I like it. I will ensure we have one of our ships bearing that name⌠Now, is there anything else we need to discuss? Perhaps your medicinal shipments?â Alexander inquired which caused Lorenzo to raise a brow in suspicion.
âYou know about my shipments?â Lorenzo questioned with a scrutinous glare. He didn't think Alexander would know something so personal, yet Alexanderâs expression didn't waiver against his.
âNaturally, yes. We, The Black Rose Trading Company have to ensure we keep our investors happy, so we make sure any laudanum with your name on it gets priority. Even if the King were to declare it an illegal substance, we'd surely find a way to smuggle it over to your doorstep. Just for you, Lorenzo.â He shot the wink before walking over to comfortably lean his back against the wall, arms crossed.
â...Thank you.â He still didn't know how to feel about the invasion of privacy but having a reliable flow of his medicine seemed worth it for the time being. âNow⌠ehem⌠Now that we have gotten that out of the way⌠Lottie. Why did you reject her today? And don't you lie! Donât. You. Lie.â
âI thinkâŚâ Something imaginative seemed to click deep within the confines of Alexanderâs mind. Something devious. âI think I know what you're referring to. How is she?â
âTerrible. Absolutely terrible! She came back home with her eyes low and barely able to sit down to listen to how my performance went at the theater! I'm sure you heard. I won the damned thing! No contest!â A potent aura of cockiness enveloped Lorenzo for but a moment. A moment that nearly made Alexander burst into laughter but he kept his composure as difficult as it was.
What is wrong with this man?
âAnd⌠what about now? Lottie. I she doing better? I believe I noticed her spea-â
âDONâT YOU!â
Lorenzoâs voice cracked as he nearly pounced on Alexander who jumped slightly from the sudden action. Lorenzoâs face was mere inches from Alexanderâs now, his eyes fiercer than before
âDon't you dare say it, Deacon! Donât you dare tell ME what you saw! Are you blind?! Do you not see that I am her father?! The only parent she has leftâŚâ And slowly Lorenzoâs tone began to weaken while his expression softened. âI saw everything she did tonight. I saw how she slowly crumbled away⌠She crumbled away and lost her self-worth while staring at her reflection in her wine glass⌠Do you want to know what else I saw, Deacon..? Hm?!â Alexander just kept quiet to avoid triggering the Duke any further. He figured if he refrained from talking too much, Lorenzo might run out of steam. Yet, this was Duke Lorenzo Vikena after all.
âWhat I saw was the moment my Lottie decided any man who could so much as breath⌠was worthy enough for her embrace.â Lorenzo huffed and looked down and away from Alexander in an attempt to calm himself. Perhaps if he didn't look at the man, he could return to civility. âAnd it's all because of you⌠isn't it?â his hands closed into fists, believing the worst of the entire situation. He felt a firm hand land on his shoulder but still, he refused to look at the man in front of him.
âLorenzo, Iâm sorry. Truly, I amâŚâ He lied easily as he had waited for a moment like this to return. â...but I am not the man who wounded her heart. That dove is too precious. A rare soul that young woman is... In truth, Charlotte was in a similar state at the art gallery as well. One moment, she was wallowing in something deep. Drowning in it. The next, she was preening over me. She even attempted to kiss meâŚâ Alexander felt Lorenzo quiver beneath his grasp. â...but it was our first outing together and in the public eye⌠you and I, we both know how such an intimate exchange would look⌠with a married man at that.â Lorenzo slowly but surely faced Alexander, his visage sad and pitiful as if he could shatter if he decided to simply squeeze his shoulder in comfort.
âI was only trying to protect her in my refusal but⌠I do wonder now, Lorenzo. Who could have hurt her⌠Twisted her mind in such a cruel and awful way?â
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