The days trickled by like strands of honeyed sunlight, soft and golden, spilling lazily across the manor's stone terraces. Gardens bloomed in shades of ivory and crimson, and every dawn carried the scent of dew-kissed roses and lilac in the air. The capital itself hummed with restless anticipation — for the night of the royal banquet had finally arrived.
A sleek black carriage, adorned with the crest of House Drime, cut through the streets like a shadow gliding across silk. Inside, Leonardo sat with effortless elegance, his sharp gaze glancing toward Maliny.
She looked ethereal tonight. Draped in the ivory gown Leonardo had chosen, her silver-blonde hair braided with threads of gold, and her skin like porcelain kissed by moonlight. Her pale blue eyes, though sightless, glimmered with quiet grace.
As they approached the towering gates of the royal palace, the fanfare of trumpets announced their arrival.
"His Grace, Leonardo Drime — heir to the Duchy of Drime, and Lady Maliny Drime!"
A hush rippled through the grand ballroom, then a cascade of murmured admiration.
"Of course she's breathtaking — Drime blood runs cold and flawless."
"Leonardo… gods, that man was sculpted by the heavens themselves."
"If only my daughter could catch his eye."
But beneath the silken compliments, darker voices hissed.
"What good is beauty when she's blind?"
"No man desires a wife who can't even see his face."
"The duchy's riches can't buy her sight back."
Leonardo's jaw tightened, his cold frown betraying nothing. Inside, his thoughts simmered.
If that bastard of a third prince hadn't broken the engagement and humiliated her publicly, no one here would dare whisper a word against a Drime bloodline . This cursed royal bloodline — pompous parasites clinging to a throne built by men greater than them.
He despised them. Not just for their pettiness, but for the presumption that a drop of royal blood made them superior. What had they conquered? What battles had they claimed? Titles handed down like trinkets. While he — Leonardo Drime — forged his worth in the shadows of courts and the blood-soaked edges of battlefields.
A second fanfare blasted.
"Their Majesties, King Aldren and Queen Celise — with Their Highnesses, Crown Prince Aldric, Prince Elric, Prince Varon, and Prince Sylas."
The royal family swept in, gleaming in regal attire, the princes trailing behind like jeweled hounds. And among them — Sylas, the third prince. Maliny's former betrothed.
Even before Leonardo saw him, he felt Maliny stiffen.
She drew in a faint breath, catching the scent of lilac. A cruel twist of fate — it was the fragrance she'd once gifted him, clinging to the traitor's skin like a ghost.
Leonardo schooled his face into a mask of polite indifference and tugged Maliny gently forward to pay their respects.
Crown Prince Aldric's gaze lingered on Maliny — a calculating look, and Leonardo recognized it instantly.
So… you've set your eyes on her now, have you? Hoping to court Drime's favor to fill the void left by Marquis Givert's death? You'll use her like the rest, pawn her for a throne you can't claim on merit alone.
His mind raced, dark and precise.
This was not part of the plan. I won't let these gilded vultures sink their claws into her. They'll ruin everything I've built.
As the court swirled around them, laughter and strings of violins, Leonardo's smile sharpened.
"Let the games begin."