The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 359: Banquet II

SAGE

I had expected a bigger crowd.

A full house, loud and heavy with whispers, envy, and curiosity—the perfect theatre for drama. But as I stepped through the soft golden veil of the canopy, what I saw instead made me pause.

Just the royals. Nobles. Elders.

And Darius. Sitting directly after Daniel on the long high table.

What in the goddess’s cursed name was this?

My irritation was a steady, pulsing thing, simmering beneath the calm mask I wore.

My eyes moved through the gathered faces, cataloguing them—too polished, too quiet, too expectant. This wasn’t a celebration. It was a controlled setting. A test. A stage prepared not for honor, but for observation. I didn’t like it one bit.

When my gaze landed on Adam, I saw him standing—his tall frame a mix of composure and contained restlessness. His brothers followed his lead, chairs scraping as they rose in tandem. Then the rest of the evil family.

A ripple of confusion swept through the room. They didn’t know why they were standing for someone not of royal blood. But they stood.

Of course, Darius didn’t move.

He remained seated—one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair, a wine glass between his fingers. His attire was pure midnight—black velvet with faint needle-work that shimmered like onyx dust under the candlelight.

His dark hair was slicked back, revealing sharp features and a smirk that bordered on predatory. He looked every inch the ancient he was—regal, dangerous, and maddeningly composed.

His gaze met mine, and the smirk deepened.

Adam, perhaps sensing my irritation, cleared his throat softly and stepped forward. "The change in the banquet’s arrangement was to avoid a... commotion of sorts," he said, tone measured. "Not everyone was pleased with the outcome of the battle."

Ah. So that was their excuse.

I tilted my head, my lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "You mean you’re not king enough to handle your own people?"

Gasps scattered through the canopy like startled birds. I could practically feel the temperature drop as the nobles exchanged horrified glances. Isla, behind me, stifled a laugh that sounded more like a cough.

Adam’s jaw flexed, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "You do enjoy testing limits, Lady Sage," he said smoothly.

"Someone has to," I replied, brushing invisible dust off my gown.

Ignoring the murmurs that buzzed like flies, I walked past the empty seat clearly marked for me beside the royal brides—and took the one beside Darius instead.

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. "Brave," he murmured.

"Convenient," I corrected, resting my arm lightly on the table.

Isla, bless her heart, quickly took the next seat, throwing me a look that was equal parts excitement and mischief.

Now that I was seated, I took in the canopy properly.

It was beautiful.

Not grand like the royal halls, but intimate—warm light spilling from hovering crystals, soft music weaving through the air like a living thing. Flowers adorned every surface, jasmine and moon lilies twining along the poles and dripping from the canopy’s edges.

The scent was intoxicating—sweet and faintly spiced, blending with the natural perfume of the night garden.

The tables were circular, five in total, each draped in silken cloth and surrounded by cushioned chairs. The royals and their close circle occupied the high table—the only rectangular one, while the others took their places at the smaller ones, arranged in a half-moon pattern.

The feast itself was a work of art—silver trays gleaming beneath the lights, plates of roasted meats, jewel-like fruits, crystal pitchers filled with glowing wines that changed hue every few seconds. It was decadent without being overbearing.

For a moment, I found myself admiring the designer’s taste. A good combination of colors. Deep golds, muted creams, accents of emerald. Even the drapes had been chosen with thought, each ripple catching the breeze just so.

Almost enough to make me forget the numerical deficiency of the people in the banquet.

Almost.

I sighed, picking a glass. I would have to make do with what I got.

I was running my finger along the rim of my glass when Darius’s voice cut through my thoughts. "You really can’t go one minute without causing trouble, can you?"

I tilted my head toward him, lips twitching. "What’s the fun in being boring?"

Leaning forward slightly, I let the movement carry the illusion of intimacy. The air between us thickened instantly; I was aware of every eye watching, of the ripple that went through the table at the sight.

At the same time, I wove a subtle charm, cloaking our voices from being heard.

Darius’s eyes gleamed with knowing. "Careful, Sage," he murmured. "You lean in like that and people will think you want one of the kings jealous."

"Do I?" I asked softly, amusement glinting in my tone.

He chuckled, low and dangerous. "Do you?"

I shook my head, feigning innocence. "No. But that does sound like fun too."

His gaze lingered on me for a long, unreadable moment—dark and sharp, probing like he could peel me open with a look. Then he smiled, slow and deliberate, leaning in as if to meet me halfway.

"Then I’m game," he whispered, his breath brushing against my cheek. "Though for the record, I did plan to kill you in the arena."

I didn’t flinch. "I know."

That made him pause. The faintest flicker of surprise crossed his face before it dissolved into curiosity. "You’re not even asking why?"

"I was going to," I said, tilting my head. "You saved me the trouble. So why?"

He looked at his wine glass as if searching for the right words, then exhaled softly. "Because you were talking with a vampire."

I blinked. "That’s a reason to kill someone now?"

"For us, yes," he said simply. "You know what I am, so you know the history. My kind and vampires... we’ve hunted each other since the first flame. We are not meant to coexist. You—" His eyes lifted to mine again, colder now. "You, talking to one, made you dangerous. To me. To my people."

Dangerous.

That word again. It followed me everywhere, dressed differently each time—witch, anomaly, threat, freak.

I could feel El’s quiet hum in the back of my mind, but for once, she didn’t speak.

I opened my mouth to ask more, but before I could, a deliberate clearing of throat silenced the murmurs across the room.

Adam.