The grand banquet hall shimmered with opulence—thousands of enchanted chandeliers suspended in cascading tiers, casting golden light upon walls of crimson velvet and polished obsidian. Every goblet overflowed with vintage wine, and music drifted like smoke between murmured conversations and forced laughter.
Elara felt none of it.
Seated beside the Hero, her expression was one of serene composure. But inside, something trembled.
The air around them was colder now. It wasn't the temperature—it was the tension, the whispers cloaked in civility. Once, the Hero's presence had silenced entire rooms. Now? Now, eyes watched him with concealed doubt and barely-hidden judgment.
He had faltered in battle.
And the world had smelled blood.
Even the king, once deferential, spoke to him with a tone that had shifted from respect to reluctant courtesy.
Across the hall, cloaked in shadow and silk, Kael Ardyn watched it all unfold.
He didn't need a throne to command power. No title, no divine favor.
He had something far more potent: control.
And tonight, he would use it.
Elara's gaze drifted to Kael for the briefest second. She hadn't meant to. But the moment their eyes locked, she felt it again—that unfamiliar flutter in her chest, that slow curl of heat at the base of her spine.
She told herself it was revulsion.
But deep down, she knew better.
The Hero was deep in discussion with the king. Elara should have followed him, flanked him, bolstered his strength. She had done it a hundred times before.
Yet she didn't.
And Kael, ever the predator, seized the moment.
"You're far too graceful to be sitting alone," came his voice—low, velvety, and laced with a subtle venom.
Elara stiffened. She turned to him slowly, every movement measured.
"You speak out of turn."
Kael inclined his head. "Then I beg your forgiveness, Lady Elara."
There was a pause. His eyes never left hers. "But if you're so offended… why haven't you left?"
Her jaw tightened.
Kael's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me something—when did he last see you, truly see you? Not as the Hero's companion. Not as a symbol. As a woman."
"I won't entertain your games."
"No," Kael murmured, "you already are."
His words slid under her skin like silk-wrapped daggers. Elara's breath hitched, and for a moment, she hated how her body reacted—how her pulse quickened, how her skin warmed in all the wrong places.
"You're cruel."
"I'm honest."
The music swelled behind them, but Elara barely heard it. Kael leaned in slightly, his voice now just a breath above a whisper.
"When was the last time he touched you and you felt something real?"
That broke her.
Her wine glass trembled in her grasp. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping back with a screech, the sound jarring in the opulent hush.
Eyes turned. The Hero glanced her way, puzzled.
But Elara didn't look back.
She walked out of the banquet hall, her footsteps too quick, too loud.
Kael watched her go with the patience of a man who knew the seed had taken root.
That night, the Hero lay beside her in their chambers, fast asleep.
He hadn't asked where she had gone. He hadn't even noticed the stiffness in her movements, the silence between them.
And that silence screamed.
She stared at the ceiling, haunted by Kael's words.
"When was the last time he touched you and you felt something real?"
She hated how her body responded—how her skin tingled at the memory of Kael's voice, his smirk, his eyes that seemed to see through everything she tried to bury.
She turned away from the Hero's back, curling into herself beneath the sheets.
This is madness.
And yet her hand brushed her lips—remembering not a kiss, but the phantom of one unspoken.
Kael had not touched her.
But he didn't need to.
He had gotten into her mind.
And now, he lived there.
Kael stood alone on a balcony overlooking the silent city, moonlight draped across his shoulders like a royal mantle.
"She's slipping," Evelyne said from behind him, her voice quiet.
Kael's smile was subtle, unreadable. "She won't leave him yet. But she's already begun to question."
"And when she realizes what she truly desires?" Evelyne asked.
Kael turned his head, eyes gleaming like cut glass.
"She won't run. She'll fall."
To be continued....