The royal carriage creaked gently as it moved through the cobbled streets of upper Esgard, its lacquered fra reflecting the warm lanternlight that marked the path toward the noble quarter. The scent of burning oils, rosewood incense, and distant hearths clung to the wind.
Inside, silence lingered for a ti.
Ian sat across from Velrosa, posture relaxed but eyes watchful, drinking in the sight of her despite himself. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, hands gloved in silk resting lightly on her lap. Her gaze was turned to the window, unreadable.
He finally broke the silence. "Do you actually enjoy these kinds of gatherings?"
She glanced back at him, amused. "Does it look like I do?"
"No," he said, lips twitching in a faint smirk. "But I figured I'd ask. You wear the role well."
Velrosa gave a short, elegant laugh. "That's the trick. You pretend to enjoy the theater until you forget you're acting. That's nobility for you."
Ian leaned his head against the side of the carriage, looking upward. "I prefer the arena. At least there, people try to kill you to your face."
She nodded. "At the banquet, they do it with a smile and a toast."
The conversation lulled again as they passed under the great arch that separated the noble circle from the rest of the city. The guards—clad in white and gold—gave the carriage only a glance before waving it through.
House Elarin's seal still held weight, it seed. Even if only just.
Velrosa's tone shifted—softer, but colder.
"Tonight is more than a social event. The Council will be watching. Whispers are already growing around you, Ian. So think you're a monster. Others think you're a weapon. And so—" she looked at him directly "—believe you're my next mistake."
Ian t her eyes. "What do you believe?"
"I think," she said, voice calm as ice, "that I'm not afraid to bet on monsters. Especially ones that bleed for ."
Ian didn't respond, but he gave a small nod. He understood the ga. Loyalty was currency here—one rarely given, always traded.
The carriage slowed.
Outside, towering spires and marble columns lood, marking the estate of House Vallis—the hosts for this season's banquet. A fleet of carriages lined the outer courtyard, each bearing the crest of a great house or powerful bloodline.
The main hall's doors stood open, spilling golden light and gentle music onto the marble steps.
Ian stepped out first, scanning the surroundings. Ornate statues, armored guards, and fountains made of crystalized mana—Vallis wealth on full display. After a mont, he turned and extended a hand.
Velrosa accepted it and descended with effortless grace.
The mont her feet touched the ground, heads turned. Lords and ladies paused mid-conversation. A few whispered, so nodded in shallow respect. Others—especially the older noblewon—glared with thinly veiled contempt.
Ian leaned in, low enough for her to hear, and whispered, "They either adore you or want to kill you."
Velrosa smiled without turning her head. "Often both."
They entered the grand hall, passing beneath chandeliers made of aetherglass and spirals of soft illusion-magic that painted the ceiling in shifting constellations.
A band of mages played subtle harmonic strings while servants weaved through the crowd carrying trays of jeweled wine and glass bowls of burning fruits.
The room was a sea of silk and gold. Nobles in flamboyant attire mingled like wolves in perfu. Murmurs followed Ian and Velrosa as they passed—so curious, so venomous.
Then ca the first viper.
"Ah, Your Highness," ca a voice like spoiled honey. A tall man in blue robes and a sharp silver circlet stepped forward. His face was powdered, his smile insincere. "What a pleasure it is to see you among the living."
"Lord Faelric," Velrosa said coolly. "How unfortunate."
The man chuckled, but his eyes flicked to Ian. "And you've brought a shadow tonight instead of your hound. How novel. I take it this is the infamous champion?"
Ian didn't speak.
He just looked at the man—flat and cold.
"Careful, Faelric," Velrosa said. "He does bite."
Faelric's smile twitched. He bowed stiffly and moved on, blending back into the crowd.
"That one," Velrosa whispered, "has attempted to bankrupt my house three tis. Twice through false trade accusations, once through forged docunts. But we haven't caught him yet."
Ian's eyes stayed on Faelric's retreating form.
"Want to do sothing about him? I'll be discreet."
"No," she said, tone low. "Not tonight."
More nobles approached. So with formal greetings. Others with hidden daggers in their words. Ian stayed silent through them all, a sentinel at Velrosa's side, absorbing nas, faces, and watching every eye that lingered too long.
They were halfway through the banquet when a voice like velvet and poison cut through the noise.
"Well well. House Elarin still dares show its face."
Ian turned. A woman approached—tall, clad in flowing crimson and black silk, her long hair a cascade of midnight. Her eyes were lined with kohl, her lips a mocking smirk.
Lady Alurelle of House Volmir.
"Alurelle," Velrosa said, not bothering to mask her disdain. "Still overdressed and underwhelming, I see."
Alurelle's gaze slid to Ian. "And this is the one they say cannot die?" She circled him slowly, like an appraiser. "A sha. I rather enjoyed watching your fighters cut down."
Ian remained still, his gray eyes following her with predator calm.
"Then," he said. "i look forward to dissapointing you."
She laughed—a sound like a dagger drawn slow. "Perhaps we'll dance soday, champion. When I grow bored of my current toys."
As she vanished back into the crowd, Velrosa exhaled sharply. "How is she so good at irritating ,"
Ian gave her a rare smile. "i could understand why."
As the evening waned, the Council mbers arrived—each announced with pomp and layered in ancient finery. The crowd shifted around them like tides parting for kings.
Among them, Liam Xavier, the silver-eyed prince of Arderia and one of the youngest Council mbers. He did not approach—but his gaze did find Velrosa.
And linger.
Ian noticed.
"Ah, the prince charming from that day?"
"Liam Xavier," Velrosa said, voice tight. "Council seat of House Xavier. One of the few who hasn't chosen a side in the coming war."
"War?"
She nodded once. "It's not spoken yet. But it's coming. Between the old bloodlines and the rising factions. Between Esgard's Sanctum of Light and the shadows it fears. And we—" she looked up at him "—we will need to be the greatest beneficiaries of the bloodshed."
The music swelled. Servants ushered the guests into the grand dining chamber. The real gas were about to begin.
"Co," Velrosa said, touching Ian's arm briefly.
"We've danced with snakes. Now let's dine with them."
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