Chapter 436 --435
Chapter 436: Chapter-435
The data introduced an immediate friction. For the first time since establishing her operational parameters, Elara felt a distinct urge to alter the current physical contact."Remove your hand, Commander," Elara said flatly.
Ken froze. His dark eyes narrowed, the lazy, confident heat in his gaze instantly hardening into something sharp and dangerous. He didn’t drop his hand right away; instead, his grip tightened by an incremental fraction, a silent, possessive reflex. "What?"
"Your current physical contact is unoptimized for the current setting," Elara stated, her vacant glass-bead eyes locking onto his with absolute, freezing authority. "The banquet is still active. The northern ambassadors are stationed within a fifty-yard radius. Any visible display of domestic proximity between the Regent and the Commander of the Guard will result in an immediate diplomatic discrepancy. Remove your hand."
Ken stared at her, his jaw tightening until a muscle leaped in his cheek. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled his hand away, letting his arm drop to his side. A cold, bitter smirk touched his lips. "The northern ambassadors," he muttered, his voice laced with a dangerous undercurrent. "Or is it just the northern prince? You’ve been acting different ever since he barged into your room last night, Elara. If that silver-haired brat is getting into your head, I can make sure he meets with an accident on his way back to the eastern wing."
"Prince Julian is a primary treaty asset," Elara replied, her voice an unyielding, level line. "Any damage to his physical person will result in a total collapse of the northern border alliance. If you threaten his security again, Ken, I will reallocate your command metrics to the southern outposts permanently."
Ken’s eyes widened slightly at the coldness of her threat. He stepped back, bowing his head in a tight, formal gesture that carried zero actual submission. "Understood, Master. I will return to the perimeter."
He turned and strode down the corridor, his heavy boots echoing angrily against the stone.
Elara didn’t watch him leave. She adjusted the severe collar of her midnight gown and walked back into the grand ballroom. The noise hit her instantly—a chaotic wall of string music, clinking glass, and high-pitched laughter. Her eyes automatically scanned the crowded floor, bypassing the ministers and the grand dukes until they locked onto a shock of spun-silver hair near the grand arched windows.
Julian was surrounded by three foreign envoys. He was laughing—a bright, clear, melodic sound that sounded completely genuine to anyone who didn’t know him. He was holding a fresh goblet of wine, his posture lazy and elegant as he leaned against a marble pillar, tossing out a witty remark that made the Baltic ambassador chuckle heartily. He looked entirely in his element. He looked like the untouchable, carefree prince who didn’t have a single care in the world.
But Elara’s vision was calibrated for details. She saw the way his left hand was tucked deep into his pocket, his knuckles pushing against the fabric so hard it was tearing at the seam. She saw the way his ice-blue eyes remained entirely fixed and dead, never once crinkling at the corners when he smiled.
She walked toward him, her velvet gown slicing through the crowd. The nobles instantly parted for her, bowing low as the Empress Regent approached, but Elara didn’t acknowledge them. Her focus was entirely locked on the silver-haired variable.