The invitation arrived wrapped in crimson silk, sealed with the royal crest — a serpent biting its own tail.
Ariana stared at the delicate parchment in her hand. The words were elegant, the message clear:
You are formally invited to the Royal Autumn Banquet, hosted by Her Highness Princess Selene of House Virelith. Attendance is expected. Attire will be provided.
Expected.
Not requested.
She already knew what this was — not a celebration, but a stage. A warning. A game she had no choice but to play.
Later that evening, attendants arrived with a gown. Not just any gown — a blood-red velvet dress with a scandalously low back, sheer lace sleeves, and a slit up to the thigh.
"Is this a dress or a declaration of war?" Ariana muttered, holding it up.
"The princess said it would 'suit your status,'" the maid replied with a smirk.
Ariana dressed in silence.
Let them look.
Let them whisper.
She wouldn't kneel for anyone — not anymore.
The banquet hall glittered like a scene from a dream: crystal chandeliers dripping light, musicians strumming harps in the corner, nobles sipping wine that cost more than Ariana's entire village.
She entered alone.
And the room stopped.
Heads turned. Gasps fluttered like falling petals. Some faces were shocked. Some furious. But one, at the far end of the room, burned hotter than all of them.
Damian.
He looked like sin in a tailored black jacket and silver cravat, his gaze devouring her the moment she walked in. His jaw clenched, like he hadn't agreed to let her come dressed like that — and yet couldn't look away.
Good, she thought. Let him feel it.
But just as she stepped toward him, a voice floated through the room like poison.
"Do you like it?" Selene purred, appearing beside her in a gown that shimmered like gold fire. "I had it made especially for you."
Ariana forced a smile. "You have excellent taste... in weapons."
"Darling, this isn't war." Selene tilted her head. "It's just a little fun."
She turned, raised a glass to the crowd.
"To the girl who's captured our prince's... attention," she announced loudly.
Applause rippled through the hall, hollow and mocking.
Damian moved instantly, appearing at Ariana's side with that predator stillness he wore like armor.
"You shouldn't have come alone," he muttered.
"I didn't know I had a choice."
"You never do — not with her."
Ariana smiled politely at the crowd, but her voice was sharp and low.
"Then stand beside me or let me burn on my own."
He said nothing. But he didn't leave.
And across the room, Selene sipped her wine and watched them — two flames getting closer.
"Enjoy the wine," she said with a glint in her eye. "It's imported... and very particular."
Ariana raised her glass, suspicion flickering.
This isn't just a banquet... it's a trap.
And as the music swelled, the crowd spun, and the wine slid down her throat like velvet…
Something inside her began to unravel.