Julian's words hit Serik like a physical blow, emptying his mind of all reasons.
Blood rushed to his eyes, blurring his vision with crimson haze.
With a feral roar, he ripped himself out of Killian's grip with such violent force that Killian stumbled backward.
Julian lay on the floor, shaking with hysterical, mocking laughter until Serik lunged forward and slammed into him.
The laughter was instantly choked out as Serik rained down punches with maniacal fury.
Screams pierced the air as blood splattered across the floor.
Stunned by the horror of the attack, Killian threw himself back into the fray, fighting with everything he had to pull Serik off, while the other young men rushed in to drag him away.
***
The splendor of the grand ball had finally faded into memory. It had been an exhausting affair that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night.
Princess Lunette also had withdrawn to her chambers, for her procession was scheduled to depart for Sylvaris at dawn.
The majority of guests had long since departed, a lingering few still occupied the banquet hall, easing aching feet or indulging in the feast arranged in the eastern chambers stood apart from the lingering noise of the grand hall.
After the dance, Vasileios had departed for the council in his father's stead, the Duke being absent from the capital.
Far from the unrest brewing elsewhere, Serena and Rysa occupied themselves with tables adorned with sugared fruits, honey pastries, delicate custards, and crystal bowls overflowing with berries.
Rysa delicately lifted a silver spoon, studying the layered custard before her with suspicious concentration.
"I am convinced court cooks possess dark sorcery," she declared.
Serena looked up from her plate.
"Sorcery?"
"Certainly." Rysa narrowed her eyes at the dessert. "No mortal should be capable of making cream taste like this."
A faint smile touched Serena's lips.
Rysa rested her chin upon her hand, watching the servants move about the chamber before speaking with sudden sincerity.
"Lady Lethia looked beautiful tonight."
Serena replied, "she did."
A dreamy smile spread across Rysa's face.
"And she looks rather lovely beside my brother, does she not?" she asked innocently. "Don't you agree?"
Serena's lips curved into a faint smile.
"They do look well together," she admitted.
Rysa brightened at once.
"I knew it!"
Serena stirred her tea thoughtfully, her gaze lowering.
"Though…"
Rysa blinked.
"Though?"
Serena's smile softened, touched with quiet understanding.
"I do not believe Lethia thinks much of love."
Rysa tilted her head.
"What makes you say that?"
Serena remained silent for a moment, watching the candlelight dance across her cup.
"Some people carry their hearts openly," she said at last. "And others keep theirs locked away so carefully that even they forget where the key lies."
Rysa frowned slightly.
"That sounds terribly lonely."
Serena's smile turned faint.
"It is lonely."
Rysa sighed and reached for another sugared pastry.
"Well, I still think she would make an excellent sister-in-law."
Serena raised a brow.
"You have decided this already?"
"Naturally."
"Without consulting your brother?"
"His opinion is secondary."
Serena laughed softly.
"How tyrannical of you."
The laughter lingered softly between them while servants moved quietly through the chamber, replenishing trays and pouring wine.
Neither of them was aware of the chaos steadily unfolding within the grand hall.
Beyond the palace walls, the delegation tasked with escorting her was already occupied with the final inspections beneath the cold moonlight sky.
Crates were fastened onto waiting carriages, horses inspected and reins checked twice over, while knights strode through the courtyard with disciplined efficiency.
At the forefront of the escort stood Alaric Sidereon and Theodore Delroy, the eldest son of the Grand Marshal, overseeing the preparations.
Leaning lazily against a stack of supply crates, Theodore drew idly from his tobacco pipe. The cool night breeze stirred his dark brown hair, and amusement flickered within his sharp blue eyes as he deliberately exhaled a thick plume of smoke toward Alaric.
Surrounded by packed crates and waiting carriages, Alaric remained engrossed in reviewing an inventory scroll. A cough escaped him as smoke drifted his way, his jaw tightening while he stepped away from Theodore without lifting his gaze from the ledger.
"If you mean to linger there doing nothing but that," Alaric muttered,his voice edged with irritation,"then spare me your company. Some of us are actually working."
Theodore scoffed and pushed himself more comfortably against the crates.
"You are painfully dull."
His blue eyes swept across the courtyard, passing over the bustling knights and waiting carriages before settling back on Alaric.
"Where is your baby brother? Wasn't he supposed to join us by now?"
"None of your concern," Alaric muttered, turning another page of the ledger.
"Ah, well. Though it hardly matters... one Sidereon is tedious enough, two would merely hasten my demise." Theodore sighed, turning his gaze toward the courtyard.
His eyes settled upon Davian, who was currently issuing orders and giving instructions to a group of knights.
A trace of amusement tugged at Theodore's lips.
Theodore gave a low chuckle, gesturing with his pipe toward Davian.
"And what, exactly, is he doing over there?"
"Is he not afraid that the her majesty might erase his existence?"
Alaric spared Davian a glance before turning another page of the ledger.
"He is still considerably more useful than you. Unlike certain people, he is not lingering uselessly."
Theodore shot him a thoroughly offended look before taking another slow draw from his pipe. He sauntered toward a nearby bench and stretched himself across it with careless ease.
"Is Eugene joining us as well after his council with the dukes?" he asked.
Alaric turned another page of the ledger without lifting his gaze.
"How would I know?"
Theodore frowned, lowering the pipe from his lips.
"What do you mean, how would you know?
We ought to know precisely who is traveling with the procession."
Nearby, knights crossed the courtyard beneath torchlight while the sounds of shifting crates, restless horses, and clipped commands carried through the night.
Alaric closed one section of the ledger and opened another.
"He answers directly to His Majesty," he replied evenly.
"Whether Eugene accompanies us or not rests entirely upon the Emperor's will."
Theodore let out a long, aggrieved groan and tipped his head back toward the dark sky.
"Gods, this is precisely why I despise the capital," he complained, smoke escaping his lips in a slow stream. "Everything here is tangled. Give me the borderlands any day."
"Then I suggest you grow accustomed to it," Alaric replied without a trace of sympathy.
"The Grand Marshal cannot shield you from your obligations forever."
Theodore rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.
"I am aware," he muttered. "And pray cease informing my mother of my every failing. Your grievances against me grow tiresomely frequent."
Alaric finally looked up, his expression perfectly blank.
"Then cease doing things worth reporting."
Before Theodore could retort, hurried footsteps rang sharply across the courtyard.
A knight bearing the Sidereon crest hurried toward them, breath ragged with uneven stride. He stopped abruptly before Alaric, chest heaving.
Alaric looked up at once.
"Report."
"My lord… I found Lord Serik, as you instructed."
The knight swallowed.
"Lord Serik… he was embroiled in an altercation with Lord Julian."
The ledger in Alaric's hands lowered. "What?"
Alaric went still, genuine confusion briefly disturbing his composure.
Serik?
In an altercation?
The very idea seemed absurd. His brother shunned the circles of high society whenever possible, steering clear of the capital's proud and quarrelsome nobility to prevent precisely this sort of affair.
Behind him, Theodore perked up, a wide, wicked grin spreading across his face.
"Serik causing trouble? Now that I have to see. That's bound to be entertaining."
Theodore began to push himself up from the bench.
"Fear not I shall guard your precious baby brother with my very life."
His grin widened, pipe still balanced between his fingers.
A laugh had barely begun to escape Theodore's throat before Alaric smacked him squarely across the face with the ledger.
"The hell was that for...?!"
Ignoring Theodore's muttered curses, Alaric turned sharply back toward the knight.
"Make sure my father hears nothing about this," he ordered, voice razor sharp.
The knight stiffened at once.
"Y-Yes, my lord."
Alaric said nothing further. He turned sharply and broke into a run, his cloak sweeping behind him as he crossed the courtyard.
Unease clawed viciously at his chest.
If Serik of all people had resorted to violence against another nobleman, then something had gone terribly wrong.
As Alaric's boots thundered across the cobblestone courtyard, old memories surged violently to the surface despite his efforts to suppress them.
He remembered the first time Serik had openly defied their father.
The punishment had been monstrous.
It had not been discipline... not even been anger.
Their father had beaten Serik with such brutality that the memory still sickened Alaric years later.
Blood. Broken bones. A boy barely conscious on the floor.
It had felt less like punishment…
…and more like an attempt on his own son's life.
Alaric clenched his jaw hard enough to ache and forced the memory aside.
Bursting through the palace gates, he shoved open the heavy doors and rushed back toward the grand hall, dread tightening around his ribs with every passing second.