Chapter 51: The Banquet 2
The royal banquet hall had grown even more vibrant by the time Lucas and Lira made it to the main reception area. Golden light bathed the room from the high, floating chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the finely dressed nobles mingling below. The perfume of highborn women hung thick in the air, blending with the scent of spiced meats and rare wines. Every laugh, every tilt of a goblet, seemed meticulously measured.
And standing in the very center of it all, like a flame drawing moths, was Prince Darius.
He stood tall, robed in deep navy trimmed with silver threads that shimmered subtly when he moved. The prince’s expression was the same as always: elegant, calm, but with that ever-present arrogance beneath the surface. He greeted guests like they were subjects, not equals, each smile a performance, each handshake calculated. This was his moment, and he owned it with every breath.
Lucas kept his posture composed as they approached, but his eyes remained fixed on Darius with quiet disdain. He didn’t hate him, not yet, but he didn’t respect him either. Not after what had happened in the past. Even if no one else in this place remembered the way Xavier was once humiliated and beaten down, Lucas did. And Darius... oh, he hadn’t changed.
As they inched closer to the reception line, Lira tugged softly on Lucas’s sleeve and leaned in. "Master," she said quietly, "you didn’t bring a gift for the prince."
Lucas blinked. The thought had completely escaped him. In his mind, the invitation was a formality, nothing more. He hadn’t intended to offer Darius anything.
Before he could reply, Lira slipped her hand into her small bag and pulled out a modestly wrapped box, no bigger than her palm. She held it up to him. "It’s nothing grand," she whispered. "Just a necklace I picked from the stalls. He probably won’t wear it, but... better than nothing."
Lucas looked at her, a flicker of amusement and admiration in his eyes. He hadn’t expected her to think ahead like this, and certainly not to worry about something as political as a gift. But she did. Her instincts were good. And it warmed something in him, knowing she was watching his blind spots.
He smiled faintly, then pushed the box back into her hand gently. "You give it to him," he said. "It’s your idea. I like that you thought of it."
Lira looked surprised, almost flustered, but she gave a small nod.
By now, they were next in line.