"For most people? No. For him?" She shrugged. "Apparently yes. The South has.…..different techniques."
Dark techniques. Forbidden techniques.
Right.
The Emperor was still speaking, introducing various dignitaries, praising diplomatic relations, all the usual political fluff.
I tuned it out, my gaze drifting across the ballroom.
And landing on him.
Duke Lucien Asterion stood near the far wall, partially hidden in shadow. He was dressed entirely in black, and he looked like he would rather be literally anywhere else.
Our eyes met across the crowded room.
For a moment, everything else faded. The music. The chatter. The people.
Just him. And me.
Then he looked away first, jaw clenched, and the moment shattered.
Good. Look away. I don't care.
I don't.
"—and now," the Emperor finished with a flourish, "let the celebration begin!"
The orchestra swelled into a waltz.
