The Prince's Arranged Marriage-Chapter 86: Dinner With Smiles

The invitation arrived less than an hour after the fire burned down to ash.

Lucien was still standing by the hearth when a footman knocked soft, precise, like nothing in the palace ever happened by accident. The timing would have been almost amusing if it weren’t so deliberate.

"A formal dinner this evening," the footman said, eyes lowered. "Hosted by the Council of Provinces. Attendance is requested."

Requested, Lucien thought. How polite.

He took the card, fingers brushing the thick parchment. Gold-embossed. Elegant. Impeccable taste.

"They didn’t waste any time," Lucien murmured after the door closed.

Alexander came up behind him, close enough that Lucien could feel the warmth of his body without being touched. "They never do when they think they have momentum."

Lucien turned, meeting Alexander’s gaze. "Do you think this is connected?"

Alexander’s mouth curved slightly. "Everything is connected."

Lucien exhaled and nodded once. "Then we go."

"Of course we do," Alexander replied. "They wouldn’t forgive us for refusing."

Lucien smiled faintly. "I wouldn’t want to disappoint them."

-------

The banquet hall glowed with candlelight and crystal, every surface polished to perfection. Music drifted softly through the air, light enough to suggest elegance without demanding attention.

Lucien stepped inside with Alexander at his side, their entrance announced with practiced formality. Heads turned. Smiles appeared.

So many smiles.

Nobles greeted them warmly, voices layered with charm and careful interest. Compliments flowed freely about the inspections, about Lucien’s poise, about how well he suited Avaloria.

Lucien accepted them all with grace.

He noticed, however, how often the compliments stopped just short of substance. How praise turned vague when it brushed too close to authority.

They were seated near the head of the table. Close enough to be honored. Far enough to be observed.

Alexander pulled out Lucien’s chair before sitting beside him, his hand resting briefly at the small of Lucien’s back. A familiar touch. Public, but intimate.

Lucien felt steadier immediately.

The first course was served. Conversation rose and fell like a tide.

Lucien listened more than he spoke, eyes drifting across the table, cataloguing expressions the way Alexander had taught him to without ever meaning to. Who leaned in. Who leaned back. Who watched Alexander and who watched Lucien instead.

That distinction mattered.

A noble across from him laughed lightly. "Your Highness must be glad to be back from the road. Travel can be... exhausting."

Lucien smiled. "It can be enlightening as well."

"Of course," the noble replied smoothly. "But there’s comfort in routine. Stability."

Lucien’s smile didn’t waver. "I agree. Stability allows growth."

A few seats down, Minister Aldren raised his glass. "To stability," he said pleasantly. "And to ensuring Avaloria remains just as it is."

Several glasses lifted.

Lucien’s fingers tightened briefly around his goblet.

Just as it is.

Alexander’s knee brushed his under the table. A subtle reminder.

Lucien raised his glass as well, smiling. "To Avaloria."

The toast passed without incident, but the words lingered.

As the evening progressed, the conversation shifted carefully, almost imperceptibly. From trade to governance. From governance to precedent.

A senior councilman leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine. "Of course, strong kingdoms thrive when responsibilities are clearly delineated."

Lucien glanced at him. "Meaning?"

The man smiled indulgently. "Meaning that too many voices can complicate decision-making. History has shown that regencies often provide... balance during periods of transition."

Lucien’s pulse quickened, but his expression remained calm. "Regencies," he echoed lightly. "A fascinating solution. Usually applied when leadership is absent."

The councilman shrugged. "Or when leadership is... distracted."

A hush fell not complete silence, but enough.

Lucien felt heat rise beneath his skin. He held the man’s gaze, unflinching.

"Distraction implies neglect," Lucien said evenly. "I assure you, I am quite attentive."

The councilman’s smile sharpened. "Naturally, Your Highness. I meant no offense."

You meant exactly that, Lucien thought.

Alexander shifted beside him. He didn’t speak but the air around him changed, like a blade drawn just enough to be noticed.

The councilman looked away first.

Lucien took a slow sip of wine, forcing himself to breathe.

They were circling now. Testing how far they could go in public.

Dessert was served. A delicate confection, light and sweet.

Minister Aldren stood once more, glass raised. "If I may propose a final toast."

Lucien felt it before it happened.

"To continuity," Aldren said. "And to the wisdom of safeguarding the throne through measured stewardship."

Lucien’s stomach dropped.

Measured stewardship.

Another word for control.

Around the table, glasses lifted again some eagerly, some cautiously.

Lucien raised his own glass with steady hands, his smile soft and composed.

Inside, something hardened.

So this is how they mean to do it.

He finished his wine and set the glass down carefully.

The dinner concluded shortly after. Conversations resumed in smaller clusters as guests rose, drifting toward the exits in slow, deliberate waves.

Lucien felt drained but also sharper than he had all evening.

As they left the hall, Alexander’s hand slid into his, firm and unapologetic.

Lucien didn’t pull away.

---------

The moment their chamber door closed, Lucien turned and pressed Alexander back against it, kissing him hard.

The frustration he’d held all night poured into the kiss heated, demanding, breathless. Alexander responded instantly, hands gripping Lucien’s waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.

"They think I didn’t hear it," Lucien muttered against Alexander’s mouth.

Alexander’s lips brushed his jaw, his throat. "They wanted you to hear it."

Lucien laughed softly, sharp and incredulous. "A regency. For stability."

Alexander’s mouth curved in a dangerous smile as he kissed Lucien again, slower this time. "They’re laying the groundwork."

Lucien’s fingers curled into Alexander’s shirt, tugging him closer. "I wanted to tear the table apart."

"I know," Alexander murmured. "You didn’t."

Lucien rested his forehead against Alexander’s. "Because I’m not supposed to."

Alexander kissed him again deep, grounding, unhurried. "Because you’re smarter than they expect."

Lucien’s breath slowed. "They don’t see me as a threat."

Alexander’s hand slid up Lucien’s back, firm and reassuring. "They will."

Lucien leaned into him, letting the tension drain away through touch. For a moment, there was only warmth, familiarity, the quiet certainty of us.

Alexander brushed a kiss to Lucien’s temple. "They didn’t challenge me tonight."

Lucien pulled back slightly. "No."

"They challenged you."

Lucien nodded. "So it’s me."

Alexander’s gaze sharpened, fierce and unwavering. "It’s always been you."

---------------------Alexander-------------------

Alexander had known the dinner would be a performance.

What he hadn’t expected was how openly they’d chosen their script.

From the first toast, the message had been clear: stability over change, continuity over influence, tradition over disruption. Words polished smooth enough to cut without drawing blood.

And then there it was.

Regency.

Alexander catalogued the moment carefully the councilman who introduced it, the ministers who echoed it, the nobles who raised their glasses without hesitation.

This wasn’t a spontaneous suggestion.

It was rehearsal.

Lucien handled it beautifully. Too beautifully.

He didn’t react. Didn’t rise to the provocation. He smiled and listened and stored every word away.

That restraint would cost him later.

Because restraint was interpreted as softness by men who understood only force.

Alexander stayed silent through it all, letting them believe the night was about Lucien alone. Letting them think Alexander was distant, unconcerned.

They were wrong.

By the time they reached their chambers, Alexander’s thoughts were already locked into place.

Lucien kissed him like he needed to burn the anger out of his body, and Alexander welcomed it. Held him. Grounded him.

When Lucien finally stilled, Alexander rested his forehead against his.

"They’re not testing us," Alexander said quietly. "They’re isolating you."

Lucien’s jaw tightened. "Because I’m easier to move."

"Yes," Alexander said. "And because if they move you, the throne follows."

Lucien looked up at him, eyes clear despite the weight of it all. "Then they’re mistaken."

Alexander smiled faintly. "Very."

He held Lucien close, one hand firm at his back, the other resting at his hip.

"They’ve drawn the line," Alexander continued. "And they think it favors them."

Lucien’s lips curved. "Does it?"

Alexander leaned down and kissed him, slow and deliberate. "No."

Because Alexander now understood the shape of the threat.

They weren’t planning a coup.

They were planning to make one unnecessary.

And to do that, they needed Lucien small.

Alexander would not allow that.

As Lucien relaxed against him, Alexander’s mind moved ahead, already mapping responses, already choosing which threads to pull first.

Tonight had been polite.

Civil.

Measured.

It would be the last time.