The royal ballroom shimmered with opulence—gilded walls etched with symbols of the kingdom's victories, chandeliers dripping crystal light, and marble floors polished so perfectly they mirrored every golden flicker. Nobles in silk and satin danced with studied grace, but their whispers shifted like smoke the moment Prince Levi entered.
He had not even fully crossed the threshold before the air thickened with tension.
"The devil's son."
"Why would the king summon him tonight?"
"i heard his not legitimate."
Levi heard it all. He always did. But as always, his expression remained impassive—bored, even. He moved like a shadow given flesh, draped in obsidian, trimmed with silver. His black tunic clung to his lean, sculpted frame, and the golden sash across his shoulder shimmered like firelight. He was too breathtaking to ignore, yet far too dangerous to welcome.
He barely made it halfway across the hall before Prince Alaric, the First Prince and Levi's older half-brother, intercepted him.
"Look who the wind dragged in," Alaric sneered, voice loud enough to draw nearby attention. "The devil's favorite pet has decided to grace us with his presence."
Levi said nothing.
Alaric smirked, stepping in closer, deliberately invading his space. "Tell me, little brother… do you crawl from the shadows just to enjoy a bit of music, or were you hoping to devour someone tonight?"
The nobles nearby chuckled nervously, unsure whether to laugh or retreat.
Levi's eyes slowly lifted. Gold. Cold. Unblinking.
"Still tongue-tied?" Alaric pressed. "Or is that how bastards are taught to behave these days?"
Ryker, watching from the edge of the ballroom, began to approach—jaw tight, hands clenched—but Levi raised a hand ever so slightly, a quiet signal to stay back.
Then, at last, he spoke.
"I only speak," Levi murmured, "when I believe the ears in front of me are worth the sound."
Alaric's smirk faltered.
Levi stepped around him with the elegance of a blade sliding past flesh, voice low but firm as he added, "You've had your moment. Don't embarrass yourself further."
The whispers stopped this time.
Levi moved on without sparing a second glance, leaving his brother standing rigid, jaw locked, pride bruised.
From the shadows near the staircase, the king—his father—watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.
---
The heavy velvet drapes swayed as if the room itself held its breath.
The orchestra quieted. The chatter thinned. Even the flickering candlelight on the golden chandeliers seemed to pause mid-flicker.
A booming voice announced, "His Majesty, King Aldric of Neanderthal, and Her Majesty, Queen Selene."
Everyone rose from their seats.
All eyes turned toward the grand staircase.
Descending with the slow grace of power and ceremony was the king—tall, broad-shouldered, and adorned in royal indigo robes trimmed in silver thread that shimmered with each step. His crown glinted, sharp and heavy on his head like the weight of his rule.
On his arm, Queen Selene glided beside him, elegant and poised. Her gown was a soft opalescent cream, embroidered with sky-blue petals. Her gaze was cool yet composed, chin high, the perfect image of regal serenity. A hush fell completely as the couple reached the ballroom floor.
Levi, lounging with a drink in hand, barely straightened, his golden eyes flicking toward the scene. His expression was unreadable. Most of his half-siblings stood taller, fixing their posture, trying to impress.
Alaric muttered under his breath, loud enough for Levi to hear, "So the devil's spawn decided to stay for the king's grand entrance. How touching."
Levi didn't flinch. He simply smirked and sipped his wine. "Did your tongue get sharper, or is your brain still lagging behind?"
The tension crackled like flint meeting steel.
But it snapped as the king raised a hand and the nobles bowed in response.
"Let the harvest ball begin," King Aldric declared.
Applause followed. Music resumed.
But from across the ballroom, Queen Selene's eyes lingered—not on her daughters or Alaric, but on Levi.
Just briefly.
And then she looked away.
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