Reuben pursed his lips, the taste of wine suddenly bitter on his tongue as the haze of drink evaporated in a rush of cold clarity. His spine straightened, shoulders squaring with the weight of his title. He fixed Alaric with a searing glare, his voice rising like a whipcrack in the charged air.
"How dare you!" he roared, his finger stabbing the space between them. "I am the Crown Prince! And you—you are nothing but an exiled wretch, a prince stripped of his birthright. Don't you dare look at me with that smug, condescending gaze!"
His fury spilled over, sweeping the room. His eyes snapped to the noblewomen clustered nervously at the doorway, their fans trembling in delicate hands.
"All of you, get back to the banquet. What are you even doing here?"
His voice, deep and edged with command, sent the ladies scattering like startled doves, their slippers whispering against the stone floor as they fled.
