From the shadowed heights of the private imperial balcony, Aiden von Leonidus watched the Crystal Pavilion transform into a living tapestry of feminine liberation and rising desire. The obsidian floor gleamed under floating golden lights, reflecting the swirl of jewel-toned gowns and flushed faces.
Laughter rose in bright, unrestrained waves, mingling with the sensual thrum of drums and the sweet cry of violins. Three hundred and twenty noblewomen—duchesses, countesses, marchionesses, and their elegant daughters—moved through the space like colorful fish in a glittering sea, free for the first time in their lives from the constant weight of male scrutiny.
And they were drinking.
Trays of the special crimson wine circulated endlessly, carried by graceful female servants in black-and-silver livery. Each glass glowed faintly with the hidden power Aiden had infused—his own blood, enchanted and potent, laced with incubus mana that worked slowly, insidiously, like the sweetest poison.
