Chapter 75: Belgaroth causes problems
Akane and Mordred returned discreetly to the reception hall, slowly regaining the lively, tumultuous atmosphere of the royal party. No sooner had they entered than they separated, aware that every second together increased the risk of suspicion. Mordred barely had time to take a few steps away when Elystria’s graceful yet imperious figure appeared directly in front of him, staring at him with a coldly suspicious gaze.
- Mordred, where have you been?" she asked, her low, icy voice betraying a hint of restrained anger.
Maintaining impeccable composure and an inscrutable face, Mordred replied with quiet assurance:
- I was simply looking for a discreet corner to avoid the hostile glances that everyone keeps throwing at me, Princess. I guess I’m not the most popular toy at this party.
The princess squinted slightly, as if assessing the veracity of his words, before finally letting out a light sigh, relaxing imperceptibly:
- Hm, you’re not wrong there. Dragon jealousy knows no bounds. But be careful not to inflame that jealousy any further, or it could turn into a violence you’re not yet ready to face.
- I understand," he replied simply, his impassive face revealing nothing of the inner turmoil that was still agitating him.
Without further ado, Elystria turned, beckoning him to follow her. They strolled slowly through the crowd of guests, exchanging superficial courtesies with some of the nobles who approached them. Mordred remained deliberately silent, his mind still preoccupied with Akane’s terrible revelations.
As they continued to stroll among the guests, a familiar, imposing figure suddenly detached himself from the group and approached the princess: Belgaroth. His face flashed an arrogant smile, but his eyes burned with a provocative coldness as he glared at Mordred.
Without hesitation, he slowly approached Elystria and leaned towards her, whispering a few words directly into her ear. As he spoke, his eyes stared at Mordred with perverse satisfaction, clearly relishing this moment of insolent provocation.
Mordred felt a cold rage rise up inside him instantly, but he forced himself to remain calm and remained motionless, impassive, waiting for the princess’s reaction. Elystria listened attentively to Belgaroth’s whispered words, her brows gradually furrowing as he spoke. When he had finished, she slowly straightened up, staring first at Mordred with a strangely intense gaze, before turning her violet eyes towards Belgaroth with terrifying coldness: