{Third Person}
The banquet grounds were already alive when the guests began to arrive.
Torches burned steadily along the periter, casting a warm glow over the vast outdoor space, and the air carried a faint scent of night blossoms.
Everything, from the polished stone floor to the carefully arranged seating, spoke of power, order, and tradition.
The arrangent was deliberate. An oval seating layout stretched across the space, with the Humans seated on one side and the Werewolves on the other.
At both ends of the oval were open walkways—one leading to the royal seating area, the other reserved for performances. At the head, elevated slightly above the rest, were the royal tables.
Servants moved quietly, guiding ministers and officials to their assigned seats. The Human and Werewolf ministers exchanged polite bows, their smiles controlled, their eyes observant. No one overstepped. No one relaxed. Everything was asured.
Monts later, Amara’s carriage arrived and ca to a smooth stop just outside the entrance.
Mrs. Woods stepped down first, then turned and offered her hand. Amara placed her hand in hers and stepped out, her gown catching the light imdiately.
For a brief second, even the nearby servants seed to pause.
Mrs. Woods leaned in slightly. "If you need anything, ask one of the palace servants to call for . I will be nearby."
Amara nodded, her nerves steady but present. They walked together until they reached a designated point, and then her presence was announced.
"Lady Amara Caldwell."
Mrs. Woods gave her a subtle signal, and Amara stepped forward alone.
The mont she entered, applause rose—polite, expected, but loud enough to make her aware of every single eye in the space.
The banquet area was brighter than she expected, clean, elegant, and already filled with people. The scale of it hit her all at once, yet she kept her composure.
She nodded slightly in acknowledgent, her gaze fixed ahead as she followed the palace servant assigned to escort her.
Step by step, asured and controlled, until they stopped.
"This way, my lady," the servant said, gesturing.
Amara blinked when she saw the table. It was at the head, beside the Alpha Prince’s seat. For a split second, she almost thought it was a mistake, but the servant was already pulling out her chair.
She sat down and thanked him quietly, and he bowed before stepping away.
Now seated, the weight of it settled on her shoulders. She glanced slightly to her left and saw another table—the King and Queen’s. Understanding ca quickly.
’So this was his position. The Alpha Prince. High enough to sit on the stage and high enough that everyone could see who sat beside him.’
Amara felt the attention then, heavy and unavoidable. Her fingers tightened slightly against her lap beneath the table, but she forced herself to rember her lessons.
Slowly and subtly, she took a controlled breath, then another, steadying herself until her composure returned. When she finally lifted her gaze, she looked toward the side where her people sat.
In the first row, she saw ministers she recognized, and then her parents. They were watching her calmly. She gave a small nod, and they acknowledged it.
Her gaze shifted to the second row, but her friends were not there, and a flicker of impatience stirred within her. When her eyes moved to the third row, she finally saw Lila.
Lila was seated comfortably, a smirk already on her lips.
And then Amara’s gaze shifted to the person beside her. Her breath caught. ’No.’
She looked again, properly this ti. It was indeed Torin sitting beside Lila. His presence was undeniable. Shock hit her instantly.
’What is he doing here?’ Her thoughts spiralled as confusion set in. ’Did father bring him? Why would he?’
Her heart began to pound as mories of his betrayal at the gas station resurfaced, sharp and uninvited. For a mont, everything she had learned slipped, and her expression faltered.
Then Torin looked up. Their eyes t briefly, and in that mont, there was no warmth, no hesitation, only coldness. He looked away as if she ant nothing.
Amara’s hands clenched beneath the table, her jaw tightening as she muttered under her breath, "Really... why is he here?"
---
Ten minutes later, movent stirred once again at the entrance.
A line of carriages rolled in with precision before coming to a halt, and one by one, the doors opened.
From the first carriage, King Sebastian stepped out, followed closely by Queen Lysandra. The torchlight caught on their regal attire, making their presence impossible to ignore.
From the next carriage, Zarek descended with Julia at his side, her posture composed, her gaze lowered just enough to appear proper. Behind them, Rowan and his mate erged from the third carriage, calm and unassuming.
Without delay, both princes approached the King and Queen, their mates behind them, and bowed.
"Your Majesties."
Queen Lysandra’s face softened imdiately, especially when her eyes fell on Zarek.
"Zarek," she said, her tone warm yet edged with reproach, "you’ve grown bold. You haven’t visited in days."
Zarek straightened with a faint smile. "I’ve been occupied, Mother, with affairs of the court."
"Occupied?" she echoed lightly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Too occupied to see your own mother? Must I send for you next ti?"
Zarek chuckled softly. "I wouldn’t dare make you go that far. I will visit soon."
"You’d better," she said, though her expression remained pleased. Her attention then shifted to Rowan.
"And you, Rowan. At least you still rember your manners."
Rowan bowed his head slightly. "I would not neglect you, Mother."
King Sebastian, on the other hand, looked pleased as his gaze swept over his sons. "It is good that you are all here," he said. "You did well to co."
Then Zarek spoke. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty, His Highness is absent. It does not seem like he intends to attend tonight’s event."
The King’s expression shifted almost instantly. His smile faded, replaced by a faint frown. "He should already be seated," Sebastian said, displeasure threading through his tone.
Zarek said nothing more, stepping back as if he had rely delivered a harmless update.
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