Then, with impeccable courtesy, Yohannes offered Lara his arm and escorted her toward the staircase.
They had barely taken a single step when someone moved into their path.
Ares.
The ballroom seemed to fall away.
For one suspended moment, neither man spoke.
Their gazes locked.
One pair of eyes, dark as polished obsidian. The other, brilliant amber, burning with quiet authority. Invisible sparks crackled between them, as though two kings stood on opposite sides of an unseen battlefield.
Lara instinctively held her breath.
After a long, measured pause, Yohannes smiled with effortless grace.
"As you wish."
With a courteous nod, the Crown Prince of Zalmeria released Lara's arm and stepped aside. Without another word, he descended the stage, leaving her standing before Ares.
Ares walked toward her with unhurried confidence.
In his hands rested an exquisitely crafted brocade box.
He opened it.
A soft murmur rippled through the ballroom.
