The ballroom shimmered with candlelight, its towering chandeliers casting glints of gold across silk gowns and polished armor. Music from a string ensemble floated through the air like mist, softening the clicks of heels and the clatter of goblets. Conversation, laughter, and courtly flattery filled every corner of the vast hall.
Yet Levi remained still—silent, seated on the raised platform that housed the royal family. His posture was composed, almost lazy, one arm draped across the back of his gilded chair, a silver goblet untouched at his side. Though his expression remained a flawless mask of indifference, his gaze trailed over the hall with a quiet intensity.
His siblings moved like dancers on a stage.
Rena stood amidst a half-circle of noblemen and dukes, laughing sweetly behind her fan, her honeyed words baiting promises of alliances and whispered confessions.
Elara fluttered among the daughters of other nobles, her voice full of excited plans for tea parties and secret picnics, already pulling them into her silken web of influence.
Alaric—ever the ambitious heir—was already courting the court. Dressed in red and gold, he leaned in close to elderly lords and council members, no doubt speaking of policy, war, and his so-called readiness for the crown.
Evander, ever the charming rake, was spinning half-truths and sly smiles to a small swarm of smitten ladies, the glint in his eye both mischievous and practiced.
Phebe had surrendered to the music, dancing gracefully with a series of highborn partners, each twirl of her skirts executed with the perfection expected of a princess.
All of it grated on Levi.
"Bored already?" Ryker's voice was low, his arms crossed beside him, though the hint of amusement in his tone did not go unnoticed.
Levi didn't glance at him. "Has there ever been a time I wasn't?"
He rose smoothly to his feet, his movements lithe and silent as a shadow. Even without a dramatic flourish, his departure held weight. The gold on his cuffs caught the light, but the sharpness in his burning-gold gaze made it clear—he was done with this performance.
"I'm leaving," he said, stepping off the platform without a backward glance. "Feel free to tag along—if you can keep up."
The moment he descended into the heart of the ballroom, eyes followed. The music didn't falter, but whispers swirled in his wake like dust. Then came her—Lady Avina, the daughter of a prominent duke.
She swept into his path with a practiced smile, her golden curls cascading over her shoulders and jewels glittering at her throat. Her gown clung to her like paint, and her lips curled as she leaned close.
"Your Highness," she purred, "You haven't danced all night. My father holds great admiration for the crown—and, well, I have a few... talents of my own."
Her gaze lingered too long on his face, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his coat, as if touching him would seal a fate.
Levi's eyes narrowed.
"I am not impressed by gold," he said coldly, his voice like frost. "Nor do I respond to desperation—however well-dressed."
Her smile faltered. The color drained from her cheeks as she stepped back, chastened.
Ryker caught up just in time to see the girl turn away, stunned.
"At least you could have dismissed her a bit nicer," he said under his breath.
"I don't do nice," Levi replied.
And with that, he swept through the arched door, his black coat trailing behind him like a shadow. Ryker sighed but followed without complaint, weaving between gawking nobles and guards trying not to make eye contact.
The moon hung high in the sky now, full and watchful.
The devil's son had left the party.
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