The banquet hall rang with the parrot-like chatter of Wedon's nobility. As soon as Riftan Calypse entered, silence descended on the crowd. The Lord of Anatol strode through the tension in the room, exuding authoritative power.
Avid curiosity, fear, and admiration mingled on the faces of the noblewomen as they darted glances at his cold exterior. Hiding their blushes behind fans, they whispered in each other's ears while the men held their breaths in equal parts terror and awe.
When he had first stepped foot in Drachium, these were the same aristocrats who had staunchly opposed the uncouth beast encroaching on their territory. Now, the tables had turned, and those who had once openly mocked him were forced to hold their tongues.