The Banquet

The streets of the Awyan capital were bustling, filled with merchants, nobles, and soldiers going about their day.

Malec rode through the city on horseback, leading Melodie on foot, her chain firmly in his grasp.

She was barefoot, forced to walk over cold stone and rough dirt, her muscles aching from hours of being pulled along.

He wasn't letting her rest.

Luko rode beside them, translating when necessary.

"This is humiliating," Melodie muttered under her breath.

"That's the point," Luko responded, keeping his voice low.

Melodie glared up at him.

"You enjoying this?"

"Not particularly," Luko admitted. "But I suggest you play along. It will be easier."

"Easier for who?"

Luko didn't answer.

Malec tugged the chain roughly, forcing her to pick up the pace.

She stumbled slightly but didn't fall.

He spoke without looking at her.

Luko translated.

"You are too slow."

"And you are too tall," she snapped back.

Luko sighed, but this time, he didn't translate.

Malec barely seemed to care.

They had been riding for hours, and Melodie was still keeping up.

Malec had expected her to weaken, to struggle, to plead for rest.

But she didn't.

She was physically up to the task.

That fact annoyed him more than he wanted to admit.

And then—

A familiar figure approached.

A man on horseback rode toward them from the Northern gates.

His pale skin was almost glowing beneath the overcast sky, his dark brown curls falling just past his shoulders in loose curls.

His dark forest green eyes scanned the crowd lazily, thick lashes casting shadows over his sharp features.

Even in a sea of Awyan nobles, Erolyn stood out.

Not because of who he was.

But because of what he was.

A rarity.

His dark hair and piercing green eyes were uncommon for their kind—a rare genetic outcome of their selective breeding.

And the way he carried himself—arrogant, indifferent, as if the entire world was beneath him—made him even more insufferable.

He was Malec's distant relative.

And now—he was Malec's replacement at the border.

Erolyn's bored expression barely changed as he approached, but then—his gaze landed on Melodie.

And he did a double take.

"What in the gods' name is that?" he asked smoothly, gesturing toward her.

Luko winced.

Malec gave a brief, clipped answer.

"She is a troublesome Canariae I am training myself."

Erolyn's brows lifted.

"Training? I didn't realize you had taken to keeping pets."

Malec's jaw ticked slightly, but he said nothing.

Erolyn studied Melodie for another long moment.

"She's… unusual," he mused. "I've never seen one with that coloring before."

Melodie hissed at Erolyn like an angry cat.

Luko gave her a look.

Erolyn smirked.

"Does she bite?" he asked casually.

Malec's tan eyes darkened.

"Yes."

Erolyn chuckled, tilting his head.

"And yet you keep her? Curious."

Malec didn't respond.

Erolyn took in the situation for a moment longer before smirking.

"Be careful, cousin. Sometimes a pet you think is tamed will turn on you when you least expect it."

With that, he turned his horse and rode off toward the palace.

Melodie exhaled slowly, shaking out her sore wrists.

"I don't like him," she muttered.

Luko sighed.

"You don't like anyone," he pointed out.

She gave him a pointed look.

"And yet, I'm still stuck with you."

Luko couldn't argue with that.

Malec pulled on her chain, forcing her forward once more.

Training wasn't over yet.

The days blurred into routine.

For an entire week, Malec kept Melodie under strict supervision, forcing her into servant duties as part of her "training."

She was introduced to noble households, forced to pour drinks, clean, carry trays, and serve meals—all under his watchful eye.

It was humiliating.

But Melodie endured it.

Studied it.

Learned the way Awyan society functioned.

And most importantly—she watched Malec.

She noted his tells, his reactions, his weaknesses.

She would get her revenge.

She just had to wait for the perfect moment.

And then—the banquet arrived.

The grand ceremonial banquet hall was alive with music and laughter, the scent of roasted meats and exotic spices filling the air.

The event was being held as a farewell to the new border army, a final night of indulgence and celebration before warriors set off to defend the kingdom's edges.

Erolyn was among the honored guests.

And Melodie?

Melodie was on display.

Dressed in a revealing, brightly colored outfit, meant specifically for servant slaves during special occasions, she moved through the crowd, serving food and wine, her body fully exposed to the gazes of the nobility.

But none of them looked at her with desire.

They looked at her the way one might inspect a prized horse.

A rare specimen.

A status symbol.

Malec sat at the head of the room, eyes never leaving her, making sure she did nothing to embarrass him.

And for the most part—she didn't.

She played the role of obedient servant.

For now.

Toward the middle of the banquet, Erolyn approached, a smirk on his lips.

Beside him was an elegantly dressed Awyan woman, her silken robes embroidered with the crest of House Waoria—one of the noble houses of the East.

She was tall, poised, with sharp features and piercing ice-blue eyes.

"Commander Malec," she greeted smoothly.

Malec inclined his head slightly, his expression neutral.

"Lady Waoria," he responded.

The noblewoman's gaze flickered to Melodie, who was gracefully pouring wine at a nearby table.

"Erolyn has told me of your… unique Canariae," Lady Waoria said, her tone curious but detached.

Malec said nothing.

"I myself keep several Canariae for entertainment and household service," she continued. "She would make a fine addition to my collection once properly trained."

Malec's jaw tightened slightly.

"We shall see how she tames," he replied vaguely.

Erolyn chuckled at that, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"You're becoming quite possessive, cousin," he mused.

Malec ignored him.

Lady Waoria, still studying Melodie, tilted her head slightly.

"Does she have any markings or scars?" she asked.

Malec's brows furrowed slightly.

"She has some strange markings beneath her breast," he admitted. "Likely some Canariae symbols."

Lady Waoria smiled faintly.

"May I see?"

Malec barely hesitated before gesturing Melodie over.

Melodie felt her muscles tighten.

She knew she had no choice but to obey.

But the moment Malec reached for her top, pulling it down slightly to expose her ribcage and upper torso, her rage boiled.

She stiffened immediately, resisting—but Malec's grip tightened on her.

He ordered her to hold still in his language.

Understanding his tone and body language, Melodie gritted her teeth.

She could see the curious gazes of the nobles, their eyes scanning her markings the way one might inspect the brand of a fine steed.

Not lustful.

Just detached.

As if she wasn't even an equal or a being deserving of autonomy.

Her fury built.

Her hatred burned.

Malec eventually released her, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

But by then—her mind was already set.

She would get revenge.

And she knew exactly how.

The banquet stretched late into the night, the nobles drinking and celebrating.

Malec remained seated, conversing with other officers.

And Melodie?

She slipped away.

Into the corridors, where the air was cooler, the noise of the feast muffled by the grand stone walls.

And there—she saw him.

Erolyn.

Alone.

Walking casually through the dimly lit hallway, his dark curls framing his sharp features, his green eyes thoughtful.

He didn't notice her at first.

Not until she stepped into his path.

He raised an eyebrow, pausing.

"Canariae?" he mused.

Melodie didn't give him time to question her.

She acted fast.

Stepping forward, she grabbed his collar, yanked him down—

And kissed him.

Erolyn's body tensed in surprise.

For a brief moment, she thought he would shove her away, disgusted.

That was the plan.

Make him react loudly.

Make him draw attention.

Make Malec see.

But instead—

Erolyn's surprise melted into something else.

Curiosity.

Amusement.

Interest.

His fingers brushed her waist, pulling her in instead of pushing her away.

Melodie's heart skipped in realization—

Oh, shit.

He leaned into the kiss, his hand sliding up her spine, pulling her against the wall.

And before she could stop him—

He deepened it.

A slow, heated, dangerous kiss.

His lips were soft, his touch gentle but firm, his body radiating warmth.

This was not the reaction she was expecting.

Not at all.

And for the first time, Melodie felt like she had miscalculated.

Badly.

Melodie's plan had been simple.

Kiss Erolyn.

Make him pull away in disgust.

Make a scene.

Let Malec see it.

Let Malec burn with fury.

But now—

She had lost control.

Erolyn wasn't pulling away.

He was leaning in.

And worse—he was enjoying it.

His hands trailed down her sides, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the feel of her.

His lips moved against hers, unhurried but deep, tasting her, claiming the moment as his own.

Melodie's pulse pounded in her ears.

Not from excitement.

From panic.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Erolyn finally broke the kiss, but he didn't move away.

Instead, he studied her, his dark green eyes gleaming with amusement.

Melodie stiffened.

He knew.

He knew exactly what she was trying to do.

And he was playing along.

Melodie's breath was still uneven, her hands still clenched at her sides as she watched Erolyn turn to leave.

But just as he took a step away, he paused.

Then—without looking back—he said,

"That was a bold move, Melodie."

In Canariae. Or English to be precise. 

Melodie's entire body locked up.

Her heart stopped for a split second.

He spoke my language.

Her lips parted slightly, and before she could stop herself, she took a stumbling step back.

Erolyn finally turned, and when he saw her expression—

He smirked.

"What?" he asked in flawless Canariae, tilting his head slightly. "Surprised?"

Melodie's mind was spinning.

He was fluent.

Not broken, fragmented speech. Not like Luko's limited vocabulary.

No.

This man spoke her language perfectly.

How?

Her throat tightened, but she forced her voice to stay steady.

"Where… where did you learn that?" she demanded.

Erolyn's dark green eyes glowed with amusement.

"I have my ways," he said smoothly.

That wasn't an answer.

And he knew it.

Melodie gritted her teeth.

"You" she started, but he cut her off.

"Ah, ah." He held up a single finger, stepping closer. "No need to get so tense, Canariae. I thought you'd be happy to have someone to speak with."

Melodie stared at him.

"You're messing with me," she muttered.

Erolyn chuckled.

"Oh, absolutely," he admitted.

Melodie's fists tightened at her sides.

She hated this.

She hated that he had this over her.

He was already smug and infuriating enough, and now—now he had another edge over her.

"Your reaction is delightful," Erolyn mused, watching her like a cat toying with a trapped mouse. "I was hoping you'd be amusing, and you do not disappoint."

Melodie glared.

"You—"

"But I suppose it makes sense."

He cut her off again, stepping closer.

"After all, you spent all this time thinking we were just towering beasts that didn't bother learning about your kind, didn't you?"

Melodie didn't answer.

Because he was right.

She had assumed that all the Awyans thought of Canariae as nothing but livestock.

That none of them had ever bothered to study them, to learn from them.

But Erolyn had.

And that fact unnerved her more than anything else.

Erolyn must have seen it in her face, because he let out a slow, amused exhale.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," he murmured.

Melodie took a step back, her pulse hammering.

"Stay the hell away from me," she warned.

Erolyn just smiled.

"Why? Afraid of what else I know?"

She hated that he was right.

And she hated that he could tell.

Erolyn sighed dramatically, then flicked his dark curls over his shoulder.

"Well, no need to fret, Canariae," he said smoothly. "I'll leave you be. For now."

Melodie exhaled sharply.

But just as she thought she was free, Erolyn gave her one last parting blow.

"Oh, and do try to behave yourself at the banquet," he added. "Malec already looks like he's going to snap. It would be a shame if I had to be the one to collect the pieces."

He winked.

Then turned and walked off into the dark corridor.

Melodie stood frozen in place, her entire body still humming with adrenaline.

Her hands trembled.

Not from fear.

From pure, unfiltered rage.

And deep in the pit of her stomach—

A sinking feeling grew.

She had just attracted the attention of someone far more dangerous than she had planned for.

She had the sinking feeling she had no control over her situation and was losing hope she would ever gain it back. Or if she even had it in the first place.

The banquet hall had started to empty, the noble guests finishing their final drinks and conversations.

Malec sat at his place near the head of the hall, watching as the last few nobles drifted away into the corridors.

His tan eyes scanned the room, locking onto Melodie as she moved across the floor, clearing the last of the platters.

Something was… off.

She was too quiet.

Too still.

And most importantly—she was avoiding his gaze.

Malec's jaw tightened.

What had she done?

With a sharp gesture, he signaled for Luko.

The golden-eyed scholar, still looking somewhat worn from the night's events, approached reluctantly.

"What is it?" Luko asked.

Malec's voice was low and firm, but his words came quick.

Luko listened, then sighed.

"He wants to know what's wrong with you," he translated for Melodie. "You've been acting… strange."

Melodie hesitated for a brief second.

This was her chance.

Her mind worked fast, crafting a response before Luko could repeat Malec's demand.

She turned her eyes downward, shifting her shoulders slightly as if… uncomfortable.

"Why do you think something's wrong?" she muttered.

Luko translated, and Malec's expression darkened.

He said something short and clipped.

"Because I know you," Luko relayed.

Melodie exhaled slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the tray she was holding.

Then, she gave Malec exactly what he expected to hear.

"I'm upset," she murmured. "After what happened earlier."

Luko hesitated before translating.

And when he did, Malec's expression barely shifted—but Melodie could feel something in the air shift.

"When you exposed me in front of those people," she continued. "Like I was nothing but a thing."

Luko translated again, and this time—Malec's jaw clenched.

He looked away for the briefest moment, exhaling slowly through his nose.

Then, he muttered something low and commanding.

"You are dismissed for the night," Luko translated.

Two guards approached almost immediately, standing at Melodie's sides.

"They will escort you to your quarters," Luko added.

Melodie nodded obediently, her face carefully neutral.

But on the inside—

She was already planning her next move.