The Banquet of Deception

The grand banquet hall of Veridorn was a masterpiece of dark elegance. High obsidian pillars stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, where silver chandeliers flickered with eerie blue flames. The scent of spiced wine and roasted game filled the air, mingling with the subtle tension that clung to the nobility seated around the immense banquet table.

Evelyn sat beside Damien, posture perfectly poised, her expression one of quiet composure. But beneath the surface, she was calculating, watching, listening.

Every noble here was a potential enemy, every conversation a trap waiting to be sprung.

And at the head of the table, King Verrin watched them with an almost bored amusement, his piercing gray eyes revealing nothing.

"Quite the lavish welcome," Damien mused, raising his crystal goblet and swirling the deep red wine inside. "We truly appreciate Your Majesty's hospitality."

King Verrin tilted his head slightly, studying him as if peeling back the layers of a puzzle. "I do enjoy entertaining," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Especially when the guests are… intriguing."

Evelyn forced a smile, delicately cutting a piece of venison with her knife. "We are honored by your generosity, Your Majesty."

Verrin took a slow sip of his wine, gaze never leaving them. "Tell me, Lady Evelyn, what was it that drew you to Lord Damien?"

Evelyn's hand stilled for half a second before she recovered.

It was a question designed to test her.

Beside her, she could feel Damien smiling—the insufferable bastard was enjoying this.

But she wouldn't falter.

She turned to Damien, allowing her expression to soften just slightly, as if lost in thought.

"His charm, of course," she said smoothly, voice light, almost teasing. "Though he was insufferable at first."

A ripple of quiet laughter passed through the nobles, their curiosity piqued.

Damien smirked, leaning in just enough to close the distance between them. "At first? My dear wife, are you suggesting you now find me entirely tolerable?"

Evelyn exhaled through her nose, forcing herself not to shove his smug face into the nearest platter of fruit.

She turned back to the king. "He has his moments."

King Verrin's lips curved faintly, but the amusement in his gaze didn't reach his eyes.

Interesting, Evelyn thought. He's still testing us.

She needed to shift the conversation before it became dangerous.

She placed a hand gently on Damien's wrist, tilting her head in feigned curiosity. "And what of Your Majesty? Is there a queen of Veridorn?"

The subtle flicker of annoyance in Verrin's gaze was almost imperceptible, but Evelyn caught it.

Beneath the table, Damien gently squeezed her knee—a silent confirmation that he had noticed too.

"No," Verrin said simply, raising his goblet to his lips. "Nor do I require one."

There was something final in his tone, something that warned not to press further.

But Evelyn had her answer.

King Verrin was not just a man who ruled alone.

He was a man who wanted it that way.

As the banquet progressed, the conversations grew bolder, the wine flowing freely as the nobility whispered among themselves, watching Evelyn and Damien with veiled interest.

At one point, a noblewoman with emerald earrings and a knowing smirk leaned forward. "I must admit, Lord Damien, I find it fascinating that a man of your reputation would settle down so suddenly."

Damien chuckled, swirling the last of his wine. "What can I say? My wife is terribly convincing."

Evelyn forced a sweet smile, gripping her goblet so tightly that she was sure she'd crack the glass.

The noblewoman's smirk widened. "I do wonder… what is it like to be married to a man so infamous?"

The unspoken words hung between them.

A knight known for secrecy and shadows, a woman known for battle and discipline.

A pairing that made no sense.

Evelyn lifted her goblet, taking a slow, measured sip before responding. "Oh, it's quite exhausting, really," she said. "He never stops talking."

A burst of genuine laughter erupted from the nobles around them.

Damien placed a hand over his heart, feigning deep offense. "You wound me, dearest."

Evelyn patted his arm absentmindedly. "You'll recover."

The nobles seemed satisfied with the exchange, but Evelyn could feel Verrin's gaze weighing on her.

He was still watching. Still measuring.

Which meant this was far from over.

After what felt like an eternity, the banquet finally ended, and Evelyn and Damien were escorted back to their quarters.

The second the doors shut behind them, Evelyn turned on Damien, her voice low and sharp.

"That was reckless."

Damien grinned, unfastening the cuffs of his sleeves as he leaned casually against the doorframe. "Oh? Which part?"

"All of it," she snapped. "The kiss. The flirting. The way you keep—" She gestured vaguely at his entire existence. "—doing that."

Damien arched a brow. "Doing what, exactly?"

Evelyn clenched her jaw. "You know what."

He smirked, stepping closer, his voice a dangerous whisper. "I think you're going to have to be more specific, love."

Evelyn refused to step back.

She refused to let him win.

So she did something that surprised even herself—she leaned in just slightly, closing the space between them.

"Next time," she murmured, voice laced with warning, "I decide when and how we sell this illusion."

Damien's smirk faltered for just a second.

Just enough for Evelyn to see it—a flicker of something unreadable in his silver eyes.

Then, just as quickly, he recovered.

"As you wish, my dear wife," he murmured back, his breath warm against her skin.

Evelyn turned away before she did something regrettable, undoing the pins in her hair with sharp, precise movements.

This mission was turning into far more than just espionage.

And she had the sinking feeling that Damien was enjoying every second of it.