Eva met his gaze, steady and unflinching, gold and red flecks in amber catching the light.
"I'll not fall for that trick again," she said, voice low and clear. She let a slow breath pass before continuing. "If you mean to throw me off balance, I advise not to do it where all can see. It would reflect poorly on your lead, not mine."
She turned her face aside, unwilling to endure his infuriating gaze a moment longer.
Lucarion's grip at her waist shifted — not harsh, but enough to remind her of the control he held. His fingers lingered lightly, deliberate. His eyes flicked down to her lips for a heartbeat, then lifted back, the faintest crease at the corner of his mouth betraying amusement otherwise hidden.
For an instant, his composure cracked, the mask faltering — a flash of appreciation breaking through the ice. He drew in a breath, subtle but deliberate. Her anger carried in her blood, and the taste of it stirred something in him he did not often permit to surface.
He tilted his head, voice low and carefully even.
"Careful, my lady," he murmured, the faintest smirk curving his mouth. "You might find I enjoy your defiance more than you imagine."
The music swirled around them, but in that instant, the room contracted to only the two of them — a dance of will, challenge, and sparks that refused to be extinguished.
The final chords ebbed into silence, conversation softening into the murmur of farewells.
Lord Valen tipped his head toward Eva with a sly grin. "Until the next dance, my lady," he said warmly, bowing before turning toward the door.
Selene and Isolde offered their curtseys, smiles faint but polite. "You carried the evening beautifully," Selene murmured. Isolde's knowing look lingered a heartbeat longer before she followed.
Lady Erin and Lord Therin were among the last to rise, Erin giving Eva a small nod of approval, Therin offering a wry smile as though to say good luck.
Kael passed by with a soldier's composure, but his glance toward Eva was sharper, weighted, before his eyes cut briefly toward Lucarion — unreadable — then he bowed himself out.
Darian, of course, lingered. He swirled the dregs of his wine, grin crooked as ever. "A fine show," he drawled, gaze flicking between his brother and Eva. "You've given me something to dream on." He tipped his glass in lazy salute, then rose with unhurried grace. "I'll leave you two to… whatever this is."
His laughter carried lightly as he left, footsteps echoing down the hall.
One by one, attendants gathered discarded glasses, snuffed the candles, and slipped away, until only Lucarion and Eva remained in the vast, dimmed hall — the hush between them heavier than all the noise that had filled it.
Eva exhaled softly, the tension loosening from her shoulders. "Good night, your Grace," she said, measured, final. "The dinner was a success."
She turned, skirts whispering as she moved toward the doors.
"Wait."
The single word cut through the hush. Not loud, not pleading — edged with command.
She paused, half-turned, her gaze brushing back to him.
He closed the space between them, his hand brushing her arm, his presence pulling close enough that she felt the chill of his breath. For an instant, it was the cave again — the silence before the break.
Eva pulled her arm back as if from a hot iron, frowning. "What do you want?" Her voice was tight, brittle.
Lucarion's eyes were still. "Right now I just want to kiss you."
The words dropped between them like a dare. Eva's laugh was hard, stripped of humor, brittle as shattered crystal. "What am I to you? How much more will you take?"
Her voice cracked at the edges, though she fought to steady it. "You already hold my entire life — every choice I thought I had, every secret, every plan… it's all in your hands, you've made that abundantly clear. I'm alienated, compliant, your pawn, just like you planned. And still, you toy with me."
Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, a subtle betrayal of the composure she tried to maintain. "At least spare my sanity. Allow me to live whatever life I can carve here, and I'll do your bidding… I'll deliver your wars, give you demigods for heirs, play the part you've assigned me without complaint. I won't resist. I won't run. I yield."
Her chest rose and fell, tight, every word a knife twisting inside. "You win."
The fire of her eyes — that fierce, untamed spark — drowned in unshed tears, and for a heartbeat, the room felt impossibly cruel: a space where her freedom, her pride, and her will had been stripped bare.
For a breath, his composure held, then it cracked, an honest, sharp hurt. He took a measured step closer, and for a second she thought he would ignore her refusal. Instead he stopped, and the room seemed to hold its breath with them.
"I don't toy," he said softly, each word deliberate. "If that is what you think, then I have failed at appearing anything but a monster."
He folded his hands behind his back, as if to restrain himself from reaching for her again. "I kissed you to prove I was not compelling you into believing our fate. And when I felt the spark of possibility… I wanted to see if it could be mutual, whether you might feel something in return. I lost myself in it for a moment, and my instinct was to pull back — not to punish you, but to protect both of us. I thought you might need space afterward, time to gather yourself without my presence weighing on you."
He drew a slow breath, gaze steady but vulnerable. "It displeases me to see you reduced to a pawn. You are capable, clever, and fiercely alive. Your independence… it commands respect, and, I admit, it challenges me in ways I am not accustomed to. I wanted to understand you, to respect that part of you."
Her eyes fixed on his, unblinking, the weight of his words pressing into her chest. Something inside her flared — not relief, not gratitude, but a raw ache that twisted against her ribs.
"You speak of respect," she said at last, her voice low, unsteady, "yet you decide everything for me. You give without asking if I want it. You take away without warning. You choose when I may have closeness, and when I must endure distance. And I'm left scrambling, trying to understand where I stand, what I am to you. Do you know what that feels like?"
Her hands trembled against her skirts, the force of her words keeping them from breaking entirely. "You call it protection. I call it cruelty. Because it isn't your choice to make what I need, or when I need it. You didn't even think to ask."
For the first time, Lucarion did not hold her gaze with that unshakable composure. He faltered. His lips parted, closed again, as if the words lodged like thorns in his throat.
At last he said, quieter than before, "You're right." The admission was stark, stripped of armor. "I act, and I assume it spares you worse, but I do not ask. I never ask. Perhaps because I fear the answer."
He drew a slow breath, eyes shadowed with something more fragile than she had ever seen in him. "For centuries control has been my weapon. But in wielding it, I cut you. And that—" His voice caught for the barest instant. "That was never what I wanted."
For a long moment, the silence stretched, heavy with all that had been said. Eva's breath came uneven, her throat tight, the sting of unshed tears threatening to break her resolve.
Lucarion's hands flexed once at his sides, the smallest betrayal of his struggle, before he let them fall still again. His gaze searched hers, not as a conqueror weighing a prize, but as a man uncertain if he was allowed to hope.
When he spoke at last, his voice was quiet, stripped of steel.
"Eva… May I?"
His hand rose, fingers grazing her jaw before pausing beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering a moment too long.
She drew a shallow breath, hesitation crossing her face. Then, slowly, she turned her head, offering not her lips but her cheek.
Lucarion inclined without protest, his breath grazing her skin as he placed the lightest kiss against her cheek — a touch restrained, reverent. When he drew back, his eyes lingered on hers, softer now, threaded with something unguarded.
"Good night, Eva," he murmured.
He stepped away, leaving her standing in the vast quiet of the hall, her cheek still tingling where his lips had been, the ache of everything unspoken following him into the dark.