A Battle of Wills

Vexaria had faced warlords, assassins, and the deadly politics of the court, but nothing felt more dangerous than the way Xypheron looked at her.

She told herself she was done with the game, yet somehow, it kept pulling her back in.

The tension between them was a wildfire, burning beneath every encounter, threatening to consume them both. She knew it. He knew it. And yet neither of them would surrender.

Tonight was no different.

The ballroom was filled with nobles, laughter, and the clinking of goblets, but all Vexaria could feel was him. Xypheron stood at the far end of the room, engaged in casual conversation, but his eyes flicked to her more times than she could count.

She refused to let him have the upper hand.

So, she did what she did best—she fought back.

Turning her attention to the nearest noble, she let out a light, amused laugh at something she barely heard. The man—some high-ranking lord she didn't care about—leaned in closer, clearly eager for more of her attention.

She could feel Xypheron watching.

Good.

But before she could take satisfaction in it, she felt the unmistakable presence of him at her back.

The noble's words faltered as Xypheron's shadow fell over them. Vexaria didn't turn, but she could feel the heat of his body far too close to hers.

"Lord Maron," Xypheron said smoothly, "I trust you're enjoying the evening