The Grand Hall of Seiena's Imperial Palace shimmered under a thousand floating crystal lanterns that mimicked the Lantern Festival's glow. Long tables draped in sapphire and silver ran the length of the hall, laden with the finest human delicacies: river trout glazed in honeyed wine, roasted pheasant stuffed with herbs, delicate pastries shaped like soaring griffons, and—courtesy of Ash's personal insistence—platters of smoked mountain venison rolls spiced exactly to draconic tastes.
Ash sat at the high table, his injured leg propped discreetly on a cushioned stool beneath the tablecloth. The brace itched. The formal tunic felt too tight across his shoulders. But none of that mattered when Ignis entered the hall.
The Dragon Lord wore deep midnight robes threaded with living silver that caught every flicker of light, making the fabric look like a piece of the night sky. His obsidian horns gleamed, and his long tail moved with controlled grace behind him. Every eye in the hall turned. Whispers rippled like wind through wheat.
Beside Ash, Emperor Frederick de Michaelangelo rose from his throne-like seat. Tall, silver-haired, and impeccably stern, Ash's father cut an imposing figure even without draconic height. To his right, Empress Aurora—Asher's mother—watched everything with sharp, kind green eyes that Ash had inherited. Her golden-brown hair was woven with pearls from the coastline, and she carried herself with the quiet strength of someone who had ruled through two assassination attempts and one border war.
"Lord Ignis Nyctarion Verdantia," Emperor Frederick intoned, voice carrying across the hall. "Seiena welcomes you with open arms and grateful hearts. Your presence honors us, especially after the recent... alliance on the trade roads."
Ignis inclined his head with perfect regal courtesy, though his golden eyes flicked first to Ash before settling on the Emperor. "The honor is mine, Your Imperial Majesties. The alliance between our peoples grows stronger with every shared challenge we overcome."
Empress Aurora smiled warmly. "We were told of your daughter's bravery during the Lantern Festival. And of our son's recklessness." Her gaze slid to Ash with fond exasperation. "We owe Princess Seraphina thanks for keeping him in one piece."
Seraphina, seated on Ash's other side in a stunning gown of crimson and gold, laughed lightly. "He makes it difficult, Your Majesty, but I'm learning his tricks."
Ash offered a sheepish grin, but his attention kept drifting to Ignis, who had taken the seat of honor directly across from him. Their eyes met.
Under the table, Ignis's tail brushed once against Ash's uninjured ankle—deliberate, hidden, electric. Ash nearly dropped his wine goblet.
The banquet began in earnest. Musicians played soft strings and flutes. Toasts were raised to the alliance, to friendship between human and dragon, to future prosperity. Emperor Frederick spoke eloquently about shared trade routes and mutual defense, while Empress Aurora steered the conversation toward cultural exchanges with genuine curiosity, asking Seraphina about draconic festivals.
Yet beneath the polished diplomacy, tension simmered.
Ash caught Ignis watching him every time he shifted to ease the pain in his leg. The Dragon Lord's claws tightened around his own goblet more than once. Seraphina noticed too—she kept the conversation flowing effortlessly, shielding them both from awkward silences while her own golden eyes held quiet melancholy.
Halfway through the main course, a messenger approached the high table discreetly. He whispered to the Emperor, who frowned.
"More news from the southern roads?" Ash asked quietly.
Frederick nodded once. "Another caravan. This one carried enchanted silks meant as gifts for the Draconic Palace. Destroyed. Again? "
Ignis's expression turned thunderous. His tail lashed once beneath the table, striking Ash's chair leg with controlled force. "A declaration," he said lowly. "Someone wishes to mock both our houses."
Frederick and Ignis made eye contact for a brief second as if coming to an understanding on who the culprit might be.
Ash's stomach tightened. In the original novel, shadowy supporters had aided the protagonist with resources and information. But they never reveal their true appearance, they were a hidden secret character throughout the novel.
Empress Aurora placed a calming hand on her husband's arm. "We will not let any mysterious people dictate the future. Lord Ignis, Prince Asher has already ordered increased patrols. Perhaps tomorrow we can discuss joint operations between our forces."
"Agreed," Ignis said, but his gaze lingered on Ash, heavy with something far more personal than strategy. "Though some of us should focus on healing before running into any more trouble."
Ash met the challenge in those golden eyes with a small, defiant smile. "Only if certain dragons promise not to throw me out of any windows."
The words hung in the air like a spark over dry tinder.
Seraphina choked on her wine, eyes watering as she hastily set the goblet down. Emperor Frederick's silver brows rose a fraction, while Empress Aurora's lips curved into the smallest, most knowing smile Ash had ever seen on his mother. She didn't comment—she never did in public—but the glance she gave her son said everything: We will be discussing this later.
Ignis, however, went very still.
His golden eyes narrowed, the vertical pupils thinning to razor slits. The silver threading in his midnight robes caught the lantern light as his chest expanded with a slow, controlled breath. Under the table, his thick tail tightened around Ash's uninjured ankle—not a gentle brush this time, but a deliberate, possessive coil that sent heat racing up Ash's leg straight to his core.
"Careful, Prince Asher," Ignis said, voice low and velvet-rough, carrying just far enough for their table. "Some windows are higher than others. And I have excellent aim."
The double entendre landed like a physical caress. Ash's ears burned. He was suddenly, acutely aware of every inch of distance between them and how easy it would be to close it.
Seraphina recovered first, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Father, please. Ash is already on one crutch. Try not to break the other leg before dessert."
A quiet chuckle rippled around the high table. The tension eased—just enough for the banquet to continue without open scandal—but the undercurrent remained.
Ignis's tail stayed exactly where it was, a secret claim hidden beneath layers of silk and tablecloth. Every small shift of Ash's leg reminded him of that night: the same tail wrapped tight, refusing to let go even as Ignis snarled threats.
The rest of the meal passed in a haze of diplomacy and carefully veiled glances. More reports of the caravan attacks filtered in discreetly—each one more targeted than the last. Dragon-glass, enchanted silks meant for the Draconic Palace, rare herbs from Seiena's southern valleys. Someone was sending a message: This alliance will bleed.
Ash's mind raced even as his body remained hyper-aware of Ignis.
The secret forces—or someone using underhanded methods—were actively sabotaging the alliance he had come to build. As if they don't want peace between humans and dragons.