Chapter : 1289

"Is it?" Her smile grew wider, a beautiful, predatory curve of her lips. She leaned closer, her breath a warm touch against his ear. "I find it all rather predictable. The peacocks show off, the lionesses watch their territory, and the wolves circle, waiting for a chance to attack."

Her understanding was terrifyingly sharp. She wasn't just watching the party; she was reading the battlefield with the same cold, strategic clearness that he was.

His eyes flickered past her shoulder and caught a glimpse of his family. His father, Arch Duke Roy Ferrum, stood like a mountain of quiet authority. His face was unreadable. But Lloyd knew him. He saw the slight tension in his jaw, and the way his eyes followed not the dancers, but the exits. His father was not enjoying a party; he was managing a security operation. His mother, the calm Duchess Milody, was a different kind of predator. She was a master of this game. Her gentle smiles and quiet words created a web of influence and information. She was watching him, yes, but she was also watching the women who were watching him. Her mind was a beautiful, terrifying machine of political strategy. She was not just watching the game; she was shaping it.

Even his sister, Jothi, was a player now. Standing beside their parents, she was no longer the angry, scornful girl who saw him as a failure. Her gaze was sharp, analytical, and very, very tired of it all. She looked at him, then at the four separate storms gathering around him, and rolled her eyes. She had the weary look of a sister who had long ago accepted that her brother was a human-shaped natural disaster.

The dance was a duel. Monalisa's hand on his back was not a gentle guide. It was a constant, subtle test, checking his balance and his determination. Her movements were a series of fakes and blocks. When he led, she would follow for a moment, then add a subtle, unexpected counter-beat, forcing him to adjust. She was testing his control, his ability to react to chaos. And he was matching her, move for move. A silent, complex conversation was happening in the space between their bodies.

He was a lord of the North, a man of iron and ice. She was a creature of shadow and smooth promises. And on the glittering floor of the Royal Ballroom, under the watchful, angry eyes of four queens, they were in a perfect, and absolutely, and magnificently, and beautifully, and terrifyingly… perfect dance. It was a beginning, a declaration, a promise of the war to come. As the final, soaring notes of the waltz faded through the room, Lloyd knew, with a cold and total certainty, that he had just met one of the great enemies of his life.

The waltz ended. The final note of the music hung in the air. It was a beautiful sound that felt full of unspoken threats. For a moment, they stood in their final pose. Lloyd’s hand was on Monalisa’s back, and her fingers were on his shoulder. It looked like a perfect, classic picture of a close couple. But it was fake. It was really the end of a silent and serious negotiation. Then, she smiled, but her eyes were cold and calculating. She curtsied.

"Thank you for the dance, Lord Ferrum," she said. Her voice was polite and musical again, like a lady of the court.

Lloyd bowed. His own face was a charming mask that he had practiced wearing. "The honor was all mine, my lady."

The show was over. He watched her turn. Her dark dress swirled around her. Then, she just disappeared. She did not walk into the crowd. Instead, she flowed into it. She vanished into the group of nobles like a drop of ink dissolving in water. One moment she was there, a real and scary person. The next, she was gone. All that was left was the strange smell of her perfume and the memory of her whispered words.

He stood alone for a moment in the middle of the dance floor. The ballroom suddenly felt cold. The orchestra had started playing a new, more lively song. Couples began to fill the dance floor around him. Their happy laughter was a strange contrast to the scary conversation that he was now hearing in his mind.

Leviathan.

Chapter : 1290

The name meant nothing to him. It was not in any of the reports he had read. It was not a known family or a political group. It was a name that had never been said in connection with the war against the Devil Race. But Monalisa had said it like a daughter talking about her father. "Like my grandfather," she had said. A leader. A leader who was focused on completely destroying his family.

This was not just some agent. This was a royal. He was not just fighting a war against a faceless group. He was fighting a family war against a secret, rival power. The thought was like ice water in his veins. The game was much bigger and older than he had ever thought.

"Why are you here?" he whispered into her ear as he led her through a difficult turn. The question was sharp and direct. It was aimed at the heart of her perfect act.

Monalisa did not even flinch. Her smile was beautiful and dangerous, and he was starting to find it both attractive and very scary. Her smile only got bigger. "Why, to enjoy the party, of course," she purred. "And maybe… to see the man who has all of Leviathan's attention."

The name landed in his mind like a stone dropped into a deep, dark well. "Leviathan?" he asked. He kept his voice perfectly calm. His face showed only polite curiosity. He could feel his own heart beating slowly and steadily against the loud music. This was it. The first clue to the real puzzle.

"Like my grandfather," she answered. Her voice dropped to a whisper, like they were sharing a secret. She used the word "grandfather" on purpose. She wanted to make this unknown person sound like family, like a legacy, not a monster. "Another leader. One who enjoys the details of… large-scale, long-term planning." She paused, letting him think about what she meant. "One who is… completely focused on the total destruction of House Ferrum and the kingdom of Bethelham."

She said this like a woman talking about the weather. It was a simple, brutal fact. My family is going to destroy your family. It was the boldest declaration of war he had ever heard.

She leaned closer. The closeness of the act was a terrible joke. Her soft, cool lips brushed against his ear. Her whisper was like a soft touch, a lover's secret. "Try not to break her heart. She is really looking forward to your ruin."

The word "her" was a deliberate and perfect twist of the knife. Leviathan was not a king, but a queen. A female leader. He was facing a rival family led by a woman who had already decided to destroy him. Monalisa’s closeness, the feeling of her breath on his skin, sent a silent, burning anger through the three women who were still watching him from the side. The message was not just for him, but for them too. It was a claim on his territory. It was a declaration that he was already a prize in another queen's game.

"We will meet again, Lord Ferrum," she promised. Her voice went back to its normal, musical sound as she moved back. "You can be sure of that."

And then she was gone.

Lloyd’s mind, which was cold and logical like a soldier's, began to think about the new information. Leviathan. A female leader. A family enemy with a single goal of destruction. Monalisa was not just an agent. She was a messenger, a princess from this hidden kingdom sent to give a message and to study him in person. The dance had been a test, a way to check out the enemy.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was a small, uncontrolled sign of the storm inside him. He had been so focused on the enemies he knew—the Altamirans, the Devil Race, his disloyal uncle—that he had been completely blind to the real player moving the pieces on the board. He had been fighting battles, while Leviathan was playing for the whole world.

A small movement at the edge of his sight broke his focus. The storms were coming. Amina and Faria were coming toward him from two different directions. Their faces were a mix of anger and worry. It seemed his war on the dance floor was about to start a new, much more personal chapter. He tried not to sigh. The life of a rising lord, he was starting to realize, was a constant, tiring, and amazing chaos.