"Where is she now?"
Alaric wove between clusters of guests. His eyes scanning. Looking for brown hair and a gold mask.
He angled toward the refreshnt area.
Then—
Stopped.
There.
Delphine stood near the wine table. Her posture... loose. Too loose.
She swayed ever so slightly. One hand wrapped around a goblet that tilted at a dangerous angle.
Her brown hair had co partially undone from its pins. A few rebellious strands framing her flushed face.
And beside her, leaning in with that particular predatory amusent, stood a young man.
Blue and silver mask. Expensive clothes. Noble or wealthy rchant. Hard to tell.
His hand hovered near Delphine’s elbow. Not touching. Not yet. But close enough that the intention was crystal clear.
Delphine laughed at sothing he said. Too loud. Unguarded. Nearly sloshed wine over the rim of her goblet.
The young man’s smile widened. Satisfied.
Alaric’s jaw tightened beneath his mask.
How much did she drink?
His feet moved before he’d consciously decided.
The young man said sothing else. Low. Intimate. Too close to her ear.
Delphine laughed again. Swayed more this ti.
The man’s hand moved.
Ready to catch her. To use the stumble as an excuse to... but—
"Careful."
Alaric’s hand shot out. Grabbed Delphine’s arm. Pulled her upright with firm precision.
She stumbled backward instead. Into him rather than the stranger.
What the hell were you doing?
His eyes locked onto the young man.
Good thing I ca early. Hope you didn’t open your mouth about anything important.
The young man straightened. His posture shifting from predatory to defensive in an instant as he frowned behind his mask.
"What are you doing?" His voice carried irritation. "We were just talking."
Before Alaric could respond—
"So you ca back." Delphine slurred.
She leaned into Alaric. Grabbed his coat with both hands.
Her fingers found his collar. Adjusted it. Tugged at it with uncoordinated movents.
"Had your little fun, husband?"
The word ca out pointed. Sharp despite the slur, though there was an edge underneath. Sothing that wasn’t quite anger. Not quite hurt. But close to both.
Her purple eyes found his. Unfocused. Glassy.
"Dancing with all those pretty ladies. Charming everyone. While I just... stood here. Waiting."
The young man shifted. Uncertain now.
"Husband?" He looked between them.
Alaric’s arm ca around Delphine’s waist. Steadying her.
"Yes she’s my wife." His voice ca flat. "So you can go."
The dismissal was absolute. No room for negotiation.
The young man’s jaw tightened. Pride warring with self-preservation.
"I didn’t realize—"
"Now you do." Alaric’s tone didn’t change. Just... heavier. Carrying weight that suggested pushing further would be unwise.
The young man’s hands raised slightly. Placating. "Of course. My apologies."
He bowed. Stiff. Unhappy.
Then headed back into the crowd.
Leaving Alaric holding up an increasingly unstable Delphine.
She was still tugging at his collar. Her face pressed against his chest now.
"You left ." The words ca out muffled. "Just left. And I waited. And waited."
Her grip tightened on his coat.
"So I drank. Because waiting is boring. And wine makes boring less boring."
Her logic was impeccable. For a drunk person.
Alaric sighed.
How much did she actually drink?
"Co on." His arm tightened around her waist. Started guiding her away from the wine table. "Let’s get you sowhere you can sit down."
"Don’t wanna sit." But she let him lead her anyway. Stumbling along. "Wanna dance. You danced with everyone else."
"You’re drunk."
"So? Drunk people can dance." She looked up at him. Those purple eyes were wide and earnest. "Dance with , husband."
The last word ca out with that sa edge. Mocking but wanting it to be real at the sa ti.
Alaric navigated them through the crowd. Looking for sowhere quieter. Sowhere she could sober up before making an even bigger scene.
Her fingers were still tangled in his coat like she was afraid he’d disappear again if she let go.
Alaric sighed.
I’ve done almost everything I ca here to do.
He looked down at Delphine. Still clinging to his coat. Still swaying. Still looking up at him with those glassy purple eyes.
I can give her that much.
"Fine." His voice ca resigned. "One dance."
Her face lit up.
"Really?"
"One." He emphasized. "Then we’re leaving."
"Yes! Okay! One dance!"
He guided her toward the dance floor.
The music swelled.
His hand found her waist. Her hand ca to his shoulder. Gripped tight. Like she was afraid of floating away.
Then they began moving. Swaying more than dancing. But it worked.
For about thirty seconds they remained silent.
Then—
"Why did you stop ?"
Her voice ca quiet. Slurred but serious.
Alaric blinked. Kept the rhythm. "Stop you from what?"
"From drinking with that man." Her eyes found his. Accusatory.
"He was nice. Funny. And you just... grabbed . Pulled away."
"You were drunk. He was taking advantage."
"So?" She frowned. "You left alone for an hour. What was I supposed to do? Just stand there?"
Her tone carried hurt underneath the alcohol.
"Delphine—"
"Were you jealous?"
"Huh?"
"Jealous." She repeated. Louder. "You kept dancing and flirting with other won. Smiling at them. Touching them."
Her grip on his shoulder tightened. Almost painful.
"And when one man approaches ... you got jealous and—"
"Stop with this, girl." Alaric’s voice ca firm.
But Delphine didn’t stop. The alcohol had burned away whatever filter normally kept her thoughts contained.
"So what?" Her voice rose. "What will you do? Imprison ? Execute ? My lord?"
She hissed.
Then laughed.
"My ass. ’Lord.’ You just need an excuse to—"
"Just shut up, Delphine."
"I won’t!" She pulled closer. Her face inches from his. "I’m your wife. You can’t do this to . Can’t just... use when it’s convenient and ignore when—"
She kept mumbling.
Alaric just stared at her.
What the hell happened to her?
She was still talking. Still swaying against him. Her voice getting more emotional.
"And you smile at them but never at . And I-I know it’s fake. I know it’s just a job. But it still—"
Her eyes were getting glassy. Not from alcohol. From tears threatening to form.
"It still hurts."
Fuck.
Then she moved, rose up on her toes. Her face tilting up toward his.
Aiming for his lips.
But...
Alaric’s hand shot up. Covered her mouth. Stopped her inches before contact.
Her eyes went wide. Confused. Hurt.
He leaned in. His voice dropping to sothing cold.
"Don’t. Push. Your. Luck."
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