Chapter 63: Banquet
I’m supposed to be paying attention to the droning voices of the sycophants around me, but honestly, their words are nothing but a dull hum in the back of my mind. We’re all standing here like pawns, waiting for the royal family to make their grand entrance. But me? I’m distracted. And it’s not by any of the pomp or the gilded decorations of this blasted banquet hall.
No. My attention is solely on the figure across the room, the one whose back is currently covered in delicate lace that clings to him in all the right ways.
I thought Noelle looked breathtaking when I first saw him tonight. His outfit—light pastel colors that make him look like something out of a dream—made my chest tighten the moment he walked out in it. That pale green silk shirt paired with the light grey high-waisted trousers? It shows off every elegant line of his slender figure. I was mesmerized when I saw him from the front, but now that he’s turned around? Saints help me.
I don’t know whether I should hunt down the seamstress to give her a hefty bonus for making him look this devastatingly beautiful, or fire her for putting him on display like this. The problem is, it’s not just me who’s noticed. I’ve caught several wandering gazes lingering far too long on him, and each one stirs a possessive fury inside me.
If one more person looks at him like that, I swear someone’s going to lose a hand tonight. My fingers tighten around the cane in my left hand, fighting the urge to cause a scene. It takes everything in me to keep my composure.
As if sensing my growing frustration, Noelle turns. His eyes catch the light just right, and the star pinned to his collar reflects a shimmering green that matches the brilliant color of his eyes. He spots me across the room and smiles—soft, sweet, and effortless—and I feel that smile hit me like a blow to the chest. Straight into my heart.
*
For reasons Noelle couldn’t quite grasp, Oliver had taken it upon himself to introduce him to the various nobles scattered throughout the banquet hall. It wasn’t entirely clear what Oliver’s angle was, but at least it was better than standing around alone, watching the evening drag on. Oddly enough, Oliver’s introductions weren’t laced with false pleasantries or insincere sweetness, which made Noelle all the more suspicious. Still, he played along, exchanging polite greetings with people whose names he would likely forget the moment they parted ways.
As Noelle listened to yet another introduction, he felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. It was a feeling he knew all too well, a heavy, lingering gaze that burned against his skin. Slowly, Noelle turned his head, already knowing who he would find. Sure enough, across the room, Thorne stood like a shadow, his expression darkened into a familiar scowl. His eyes were cold, unreadable to most, but Noelle could see through the thin veil. He could always see what lay beneath the hard exterior.