Three days later, a summon arrived.
I didn't need to read the entire thing.
One look at the gold-threaded seal, and I knew.
A banquet.
Celebrating the "peace" of the realm.
Sure.
Because nothing screamed peace like sending assassins out while pouring wine at home.
I stood in front of my cracked mirror, adjusting the simple black gown I'd been given.
It wasn't fancy.
It wasn't meant to be.
I was meant to blend in.
A shadow at the edge of the court's light.
Lucas, of course, looked like he'd been born to walk into royal halls —
tall, lazy, dressed in black and silver, his smirk firmly in place.
He caught me staring.
"What?" he asked, tilting his head just slightly.
"Nothing," I muttered, straightening the dagger strapped under my sleeve.
"Just wondering how you can look smug even when you're supposed to look polite."
He grinned wider.
"Talent."
Tch.
What a pain.
The banquet was in full swing by the time we entered the Grand Hall.
Laughter.
Music.
