Chapter 8: The Invite
Silence.
Then—
Iris laughed. A sound like shattering crystal, sharp and bright and utterly devoid of warmth.
The silence that followed it was thick enough to choke on.
Every noble, every guard, even the broken Third Prince holding his shattered jaw—all of them froze as the Imperial Princess’s mirth echoed across the courtyard. It wasn’t the delicate, practiced laugh of courtly ladies.
This was more the sound of a beast who had just found something interesting.
Lan didn’t move.
He stood there, battered and bloodied, his body still screaming from the sutra’s toll, his dantian a hollow pit of gnawing hunger. But his spine was straight. His gaze strong.
Iris tilted her head, moonlight catching the silver threads woven through her dark hair. "I did hear about that, and although i have always been told to not expect much from you," she mused, her voice like velvet. "You seem quite the entertainer."
Lan didn’t deny it.
"However," Iris continued, idly twirling a lock of moonlight hair around one finger, "the people attending my little gathering aren’t the type you can simply take the head off of."
Lan grinned—a slow, dangerous baring of teeth that made the still-bleeding cut on his throat pulse fresh crimson. "If I didn’t know any better," he murmured, "I’d say that was a challenge."