Banquet

The gown I wore was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a deep crimson adorned with intricate golden embroidery that shimmered as the light caught it.

It hugged my form in all the right places, flaring out into a graceful skirt that swept the floor with every step.

The neckline was modest yet regal, the sleeves delicate lace that added to the aura of elegance. As I adjusted the diamond-studded bracelet on my wrist, I caught Levan watching me from the mirror's reflection.

"You look breathtaking," Levan said, his voice soft yet confident. His dark eyes held a warmth that might have melted the heart of any other woman. 

I turned to face him, allowing a small smile to grace my lips. "You don't look too bad yourself," I said lightly. 

And he didn't. His tailored navy suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean figure.

His hair was neatly styled, and his polished demeanor only added to his charm. If appearances alone determined a partnership, we were flawless together. The perfect couple. 

He offered me his arm, and I placed my hand on it, letting him escort me toward the banquet hall.

The soft clicking of my heels against the marble floor was the only sound between us, but the silence felt comfortable, almost rehearsed. 

At the grand double doors, two heralds stood at attention. The ornate handles glinted under the chandelier light as the doors creaked open, revealing the opulence within.

The banquet hall was a vision of gold and crystal, the massive chandelier overhead casting a soft glow on the sea of guests already gathered. Long tables were set with gleaming silverware, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. 

The heralds straightened and called out, their voices clear and commanding: "Princess Xyra Eldarion and Lord Levan Therandil!" 

All eyes turned toward us as we stepped inside, the room falling momentarily silent before a murmur of approval swept through the crowd. 

I could feel the weight of their stares, their admiration thinly veiled behind practiced smiles. I had grown up under this scrutiny, and I thrived on it.

I let my lips curl into a serene smile, my posture poised and elegant, my hand still lightly resting on Levan's arm. 

We moved further into the room, and I caught snippets of whispers. 

"She's stunning, isn't she?" 

"Their children will be beautiful." 

"A perfect match." 

Perfect. That word again. 

Levan leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial. "They're envious of you. I can't blame them." 

I let out a soft, dismissive laugh, my smile unwavering. "Let them envy." 

We made our way to the head table, where my parents were already seated. My mother's face lit up as she saw me, her pride evident in the way her gaze lingered on my gown and my polished demeanor.

My father gave me a slight nod, a rare gesture of approval from him. 

As we took our seats, the banquet began in earnest. Servants moved gracefully between the tables, pouring wine and delivering plates of exquisitely prepared dishes. Conversations filled the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the

clinking of glasses. 

I sipped my wine, letting its rich flavor settle on my tongue, when my gaze flickered across the room and froze. 

There she was. 

Ren Khasar. 

She was seated toward the back, her chair slightly angled, as if she didn't care for formal seating arrangements. Her posture was relaxed, almost careless, but there was nothing careless about her presence. 

She wore a black suit, impeccably tailored, the fabric hugging her athletic frame. The open collar of her shirt revealed just enough of her neck to hint at a lack of formality, but the confidence with which she wore it left no doubt that she had made the outfit her own. 

The way the light caught the faint sheen of her suit, combined with her sharp features and those piercing eyes, made her impossible to ignore. Even from across the room, I could feel the magnetism she exuded. 

It irritated me how easily she drew attention, how natural it seemed for her to command a room despite doing nothing to deserve it. 

Levan noticed my gaze and followed it to her. "She look great?" he asked casually. 

I tore my eyes away, my voice crisp. "Yeah. Nothing more." 

His brow lifted slightly, but he didn't press further. Instead, he reached for my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles in what I assumed was meant to be a reassuring gesture. "She looks… interesting." 

"She's irrelevant," I said coolly, my mask of indifference firmly in place. "Let's focus on the evening." 

As the courses came and went, the chatter and energy in the room grew. My mother was glowing with pride as she spoke to the other noblewomen, while my father discussed politics with Levan. 

And then, the king stood, his presence commanding immediate silence. 

"It is time," he announced, his voice booming, "for the first dance of the evening!" 

A wave of polite applause followed as the musicians began to play a soft, melodic tune. 

Levan rose and extended his hand toward me. "Shall we?" 

I placed my hand in his, allowing him to guide me to the center of the hall. The crowd parted to make space for us, their eyes watching our every move. 

As we took our positions, I felt the weight of their expectations settle on me. This was as much a performance as it was a tradition. Every step, every turn had to be perfect, flawless, a reflection of the future they all envisioned for us. 

Levan's hand rested lightly on my waist as we began to move, his steps confident and measured. The music swelled, and we glided across the floor, our movements synchronized and effortless. 

The murmurs of approval from the crowd were like a quiet symphony of validation. 

But even as I smiled and played my part, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched—not by the crowd, but by her. 

I could feel Ren's eyes on me, sharp and unrelenting, like a predator watching its prey. 

And then it happened. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man step forward from the shadows. 

His movements were deliberate, his posture tense. He wore a dark cloak that concealed much of his figure, but the glint of steel in his hand was unmistakable. 

A knife. 

My heart skipped a beat, but my expression didn't falter. I kept dancing, my body moving instinctively even as my mind raced. 

The man's eyes were locked on me, his intent clear. 

And he was getting closer.