The gathering was everything Aelira despised.
Music too soft to be sincere. Smiles too sharp to be friendly. Nobles drifting from conversation to conversation like predators testing weak prey.
She arrived on Kael's arm.
That alone was enough to still the room.
Whispers rippled outward as heads turned.
"A bold choice," Kael murmured under his breath.
Aelira smiled sweetly. "I thought I'd make it easier for them to stare."
His lips twitched. Barely.
Lord Cassian Vale greeted them near the center of the hall, his expression smooth and practiced.
"Princess Aelira," he said warmly. "You honor us with your presence."
"I do enjoy walking into traps," Aelira replied pleasantly.
Cassian laughed, uncertain whether she was joking.
Kael was not.
They took their seats at the long table reserved for sponsors and honored guests. Servants moved gracefully, pouring wine into crystal goblets.
Aelira reached for hers—
And someone bumped her elbow.
The goblet tipped.
Red wine splashed directly across Kael's black armor, streaking down the silver runes like fresh blood.
The music faltered.
Conversation died.
Aelira froze.
"I—" she stared at the spreading stain in absolute horror. "That was not intentional."
Kael looked down slowly.
Then up at her.
"Princess," he said calmly, "are you attempting assassination?"
Her face burned. "I swear I was aiming for dignity."
A noble across the table choked violently on his drink.
Murmurs rippled through the hall—confusion, amusement, scandal.
Kael lifted a napkin and wiped at the armor, unbothered. "Relax," he said quietly. "It's seen worse."
She glanced at him. "That doesn't help."
"It amuses me," he replied.
Her eyes widened. "You're enjoying this."
"Marginally."
Cassian cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps we should move on—"
"Of course," Aelira said brightly. "I wouldn't want to distract from your event."
She lifted her goblet again, this time carefully.
Kael leaned closer, voice low. "You're blushing."
"I'm furious," she whispered back.
"At the wine?" he asked.
"At gravity."
His shoulder shook.
Just once.
She noticed.
As the evening wore on, the tension sharpened again—politics sliding back into place. Cassian spoke of trade routes and council favors, eyes flicking between Aelira and Kael like a man counting risks.
Aelira listened politely.
Patiently.
Then Cassian leaned closer.
"You've become… fascinating," he said softly. "The court is curious."
Kael's posture changed instantly.
Aelira felt it before she saw it.
"Careful," she replied coolly. "Curiosity often leads to disappointment."
Cassian smiled. "Or opportunity."
Before Kael could intervene, a servant appeared suddenly behind Aelira.
"Your Highness—your sleeve."
She looked down.
Ink.
Dark, wet ink smeared across the pale fabric of her gown.
She stared.
Then laughed.
Soft. Genuine. Completely unexpected.
"It appears," she said, lifting her stained sleeve, "that tonight has declared war on my dignity."
The nearby nobles laughed—nervous, relieved.
Kael leaned in, voice dry. "I warned you about gatherings."
"Yes," she said, still smiling. "But I didn't expect them to fight back."
Later, on the balcony overlooking the gardens, the noise of the hall faded behind them.
Kael removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders without a word, covering the stain.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"You handled that well," he replied.
She glanced up at him. "You enjoyed it."
"I enjoyed," he corrected, "that you weren't afraid."
Aelira smiled faintly. "Then perhaps I should embarrass myself more often."
His gaze darkened—just a shade.
"Please don't," he said.
She laughed softly.
Below them, the palace lights glittered—beautiful, false, dangerous.
And for the first time since the gathering began, Aelira realized something important:
Even in a nest of vipers—
She could still laugh.