The night of the official banquet was quite suffocating. Alaric had tried to be polite to the delegation as per customs, but he spent every moment wishing he hadn't done it.
Why? Because of the disaster that unfolded.
The dining hall had been scrubbed of its usual rough, Northern character and draped in the heavy silks of diplomacy, but the air remained freezing.
Julian sat at the high table, and beside him were Alaric—who looked as though he were ready to snap his silver fork in half—and Lucius. Lucius was right in the center for both men to care for.
Then, as for the rest of the table, it was very much a guest list that felt like a death sentence.
On one side was Purifier Elian, looking ethereal in his pristine white robes, and on the other side was Prince Zane, who had arrived in a storm of gold embroidery and sandalwood incense.
He just didn't know when to quit it with the peacock lifestyle.
