The clatter of silverware and the low hum of voices filled the air as the nobles took their seats. Platters of roast venison, spiced root vegetables, and honey-glazed fruit moved along the long tables. Golden wine flowed freely, catching firelight in every cup.
At the high table, King Thornak sat like carved stone, still, watchful, his fingers loosely curled around a goblet he hadn't touched. The silver crown rested at his brow, stark against his dark hair, a silent reminder that this was his court.
Kael leaned back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully and smirking at something Dain had muttered under his breath. Just beside them sat Ruvan who had already started eating.
To the King's right sat Princess Selene, radiant in her deep blue gown. The yellow stones in her crown caught the candlelight as she lifted her cup in greeting to a nobleman who bowed too low from across the room.
Further down the great hall, music began, slow and slow, a court ballad heavy with drumbeats and the mournful strings of an old melody. Laughter broke the hush in bursts. A few nobles leaned too close to one another, drunk on wine and whispered ambition.
At the far end of the high table, Queen Maravelle sipped from her goblet, flanked by loyal allies. Her silver hair was pinned high, her expression calm, but her eyes, cold and sharp, missed nothing.
Servants moved like shadows between tables, pouring wine, delivering messages, removing empty plates. Toasts were made. Promises were exchanged in low voices behind raised cups.
As the final courses were cleared away, the music shifted and a new rhythm settled over the hall.
The meal had ended, but the night lingered.
The great hall shifted into something softer. The laughter grew louder. Nobles began to drift from their seats with goblets in hand, walking slowly in loose circles. Small groups gathered near the fireplaces and tall pillars, speaking in quiet voices.
Servants moved quietly through the crowd, refilling goblets as the music turned light and cheerful.
But Thornak stood alone on the balcony, the cold night wind tugging at the hem of his cloak. Below, the torches of Vargorath flickered like watchful eyes. A goblet hung loosely in his hand, long forgotten.
His thoughts kept drifting back to the girl asleep in his chambers.
His mate.
He gripped the rail at the weight of the word.
"No one must know," he muttered into the night.
Not yet.
Not while danger breathes down these walls.
"Are you avoiding your… queen?" Kael's voice came from behind.
Thornak took a slow sip, his gaze fixed on the darkened hills behind the forest.
"You have no idea."
Kael gave a quiet chuckle.
"Why don't you want her anyway?"
Thornak's jaw tightened.
"Because I don't trust their intentions."
"And the girl in your chambers? The... object of your affection?" Kael asked quietly.
Thornak didn't look at him.
"She is in danger here if word gets out about who she really is."
Kael raised a brow, clearly holding back a dozen questions. But before he could speak, the sound of footsteps clicked against the marble floor behind them.
"Talking secrets without me?"
Selene's voice was light, almost teasing, but her eyes were too sharp for the smile on her lips.
Both men turned.
She looked breathtaking in the low light. Blue silk clung to her frame, her crown set perfectly against her pale brow. Her goblet gleamed in her hand, untouched.
"Kael," she said smoothly, with a nod that barely counted as acknowledgment. "Would you give us a moment?"
Kael gave Thornak a look that said good luck, then bowed lightly.
"Of course. I'll go… elsewhere."
He vanished into the crowd, whistling softly.
Selene stepped closer, her perfume, sweet and sharp, curled in the air between them.
"You've been difficult to find tonight," she said. "I was beginning to think you were hiding, or worse avoiding me."
Thornak didn't answer. He took another drink instead.
She tilted her head, watching him.
"So tell me, Thornak. Who is the girl you've locked away in your chambers?"
Thornak finally turned to face her.
His expression was unreadable, but the storm in his gaze had shifted.
"She's none of your concern."
Selene's smile didn't fade. If anything, it softened.
"Everything that touches you is my concern."
She stepped closer, closing the space between them. Her fingers rose and came to rest gently against his chest, right over his heart. The warmth of his body bled through the fine fabric.
"You are mine, Thornak," she said softly, eyes locked on his. "Or have you forgotten?"
Before he could answer, she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, her breath warm and slow.
"Let me remind you what I offer, Thornak…"
He moved before she could finish.
Gently but firmly he caught her wrist and stepped back, breaking her touch.
His voice was low and calm.
"I think you've had enough wine for one night."
Selene blinked at him, surprise flickering through her eyes before she forced a smile.
"Is that your way of sending me to bed?"
"It's my way of saying no."
"No to what?"
Thornak didn't flinch.
"No. Not tonight."
"Why?" she asked, stepping forward again, her body brushing close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric. "What's stopping you?"
"Because it's not appropriate," he said, his voice low but firm.
Selene laughed lightly, stepping back just enough to look at him through narrowed eyes, her amusement sharp-edged.
"I'm to be your wife, Thornak. What exactly isn't appropriate about that?"
"I just think it's not the right time to be… so intimate." He said casually.
Selene didn't back down. She smiled slowly.
"And when, pray tell, is the right time?"
Thornak's gaze flicked to hers.
"When we are properly wedded."
She let out a soft laugh, brushing her fingers along the rim of her goblet.
"That's so old-fashioned."
"Well," he said, setting his goblet down with quiet finality, "I'm an old-fashioned Lycan."
Selene tilted her head, watching him. Her smile never faltered, but something sharper gleamed beneath it now.
Then Selene stepped back with a graceful curtsy, every inch the royal bride-to-be.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
Thornak breathed a sigh of relief as she turned and left, the scent of her perfume lingering in the cold night air.