The Clash of Queens
The moment Kiya spotted them, she felt the shift.
She had been the center of attention the entire night—compliments rolling in like an endless stream, every pair of eyes drawn to her shimmering black sequin bodycon dress that fit her like a second skin. The gold embellishments curved along her body like molten fire, adding to the power she exuded with each step. Every calculated movement of hers sent light dancing off her Cartier diamond-studded earrings, and the unmistakable red soles of her Louboutin stilettos clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step a silent declaration: I own this place.
But now?
Now, people were looking at them.
Jay, Tiya, and—most annoyingly—Chahat.
Kiya's perfectly lined lips curled into a smirk, but there was a glint in her eyes that screamed anything but amusement. She took a slow sip from her glass, letting the moment stretch before she sauntered toward them. The crowd parted effortlessly for her; after all, Kiya didn't walk—she owned every space she entered.
Tiya saw her approach first, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, great. Here we go."
Jay didn't even try to hide his amusement, and Chahat, as usual, remained unreadable, her dark eyes steady as Kiya finally stopped in front of them, tilting her head in mock curiosity.
"Well, well, well," Kiya drawled, letting her gaze trail over Tiya's outfit. "Look at you, Tiya. Going full tomboy even for a party? Cargo pants? Sneakers? You really do commit to the whole 'I-don't-care' aesthetic, huh?"
Tiya smirked, unfazed. "And yet, here you are, caring enough to comment on it."
A flicker of annoyance passed through Kiya's perfectly made-up face, but she recovered quickly, turning to Chahat next. She took her time, scanning Chahat's elegant off-shoulder black midi dress, the subtle yet exquisite gold embroidery along the hem, the delicate metallic belt cinching her waist. It wasn't extravagant, not like Kiya's, but that was the problem—it didn't need to be.
"You know," Kiya said, voice dripping with false sweetness, "I couldn't help but wonder… how did you get a dress like that, Chahat? I mean, considering your… situation."
Chahat's expression didn't change, but a flicker of something—cold, unreadable—passed through her gaze.
"What situation?" she asked, voice dangerously calm.
Kiya let out a light, insincere laugh. "Oh, don't act so innocent! Everyone knows you're an orphan. It's just… surprising, you know? A dress like that isn't exactly cheap." She tilted her head. "Unless, of course, a generous friend decided to donate it to you? Charity can be a beautiful thing, after all."
Tiya tensed immediately, her hands balling into fists. "Kiya—"
But before she could start a full-blown fight, Chahat raised a hand slightly, stopping her. Then, she turned her gaze back to Kiya, an eerie calmness in her demeanor.
"I see," Chahat murmured. She stepped forward just slightly, enough that the golden embroidery of her dress caught the light, the intricate design shining like stardust. "I suppose it's hard for you to understand, Kiya, since you think everything valuable comes with a brand name."
The words were soft, almost gentle—but they sliced through the air like a blade.
Kiya's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but she covered it up with a scoff. "Oh, please. Don't pretend you're above it all. You wouldn't be wearing something like that if you didn't want to be noticed."
Chahat tilted her head, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips. "Noticed? Maybe. But there's a difference between demanding attention and naturally commanding it."
Kiya inhaled sharply, but before she could retort, Jay—who had been silent up until now—finally chuckled.
"Damn," he murmured, glancing at Chahat with open amusement. "That was smooth."
Tiya burst out laughing, nudging Chahat approvingly. "Didn't even have to try."
Kiya's lips pressed into a thin line. She knew when she was being outplayed, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she rolled her eyes dramatically before flicking her gaze over to Jay.
"Well," she sighed, her voice dripping with exaggerated exasperation, "at least someone here knows how to dress up properly."
Jay smirked. "Oh? So I meet your standards?"
Kiya's gaze traveled over his impeccably tailored black velvet blazer, the golden embroidery that added just the right amount of flair, the way his satin gold shirt caught the dim party lights. Everything about him screamed elegance and effortless confidence.
"I'd be blind if I said otherwise," Kiya admitted with a small shrug. "You look good, Jay."
Jay gave her a lazy grin. "Glad to hear it."
Tiya rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. He knows he looks good. The whole party knows he looks good."
Kiya smirked again but didn't push further. The tension still lingered in the air, but she had made her presence known. And even if she hadn't won this round, she wasn't the type to back down so easily.
"Enjoy the party," she said lightly, flipping her sleek ponytail over her shoulder. "Try not to embarrass yourselves too much."
With that, she turned on her heels, the red soles of her stilettos flashing as she walked away, her exit just as calculated as her entrance.
Jay let out a slow breath, amused. "Well. That was… something."
Chahat smirked slightly. "Expected."
Tiya, still annoyed, crossed her arms. "I swear, one day I'm gonna—"
Jay clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Not tonight. We've already won, Tiya."
Tiya huffed, but she knew he was right. Kiya had come with the intention to overshadow them, but in the end, the only thing she had managed to do was prove that their presence had shaken her.
And so, as the music swelled and the party continued, the three of them moved on—unbothered, unshaken, and completely in control of the night.