Chapter 198: Greeting the King of Saha
The sunlight off the east terrace caught on silk and gemstone as two figures emerged from the manor’s opposite wing, their steps perfectly in sync despite the subtle edge of rivalry in their bearing.
Cressida was draped in dove‑gray charmeuse, her gown cut clean and severe, softened only by the pale shimmer of pearls along her throat. Her dark hair was swept into a twist that spoke of unshakable control, every strand in place, her expression a mask of serene power.
Serathine, by contrast, cut a bolder line: deep emerald satin with a dramatic shoulder sweep, her jewelry sharp with art‑deco brilliance that threw spears of sunlight with every step. Her red hair was styled in sculpted waves that caught the light, and her smile already played at the edges like she knew something the rest of the world didn’t.
They reached the top of the terrace together, their gazes briefly locking like blades meeting in a silent duel, before both turned outward toward the drive.
Lucas caught them in his periphery and had to bite back a smile. They looked like they’d coordinated only to outdo each other. Cressida inclined her head faintly in Trevor’s direction, her pale eyes briefly scanning Lucas with that cool approval she so rarely gave. Serathine, ever the bold one, let her smile deepen by a fraction, her sharp gaze sweeping over Lucas’s slate‑gray jacket and lingering just long enough to acknowledge his subtlety.
"You’re both early," Trevor murmured under his breath, pitched only for Lucas to hear.
"Of course they are," Lucas replied softly, keeping his own gaze fixed on the sweeping gravel drive. "Wouldn’t want to miss the show."
And then the distant hum of engines deepened, the motorcade sliding into view around the curve of the trees. The black sedan at the head moved with deliberate ease, slowing as it approached the final stretch of gravel that cut through the manicured lawn.
Inside, Dax lounged with the kind of effortlessness that only came from someone who had been born into power and polished it into something almost charming. His jacket was cut sharp in midnight blue, his tie was touched loosely, and his violet eyes flicked lazily over the approach.
But as the manor’s stone façade rose into view, sunlight glinting off the tall windows and the faint silhouette of waiting figures on the terrace, a shiver danced unexpectedly down his spine.