CHAPTER 176: GUARDIANS OF THE VEIL

The banquet hall was a masterpiece of opulence and illusion.

Gilded chandeliers spilled amber light onto polished marble floors. Velvet drapes trimmed in gold pooled at the windows, and every place setting shimmered with silver cutlery and crystal goblets. But beneath the glitter, the air was heavy, tainted with old grudges, masked smiles, and silent war.

Liora entered at the Queen Dowager’s side, trailing half a step behind Evelyne. The assembled nobles turned as one, eyes narrowing, lips curving, and masks of civility slipping into place.

"Who’s the girl with her?"

"Miral’s niece?"

"Isn’t that Prince Lucien’s concubine?"

Liora felt every glance like a blade. Still, she walked straight-backed, chin raised. She wore a deep wine-colored gown, Rowan’s doing, elegant but restrained. Nothing that suggested wealth, but not servitude either.

She was no longer a girl in rags.

She was a threat.

The Queen Dowager led them to a long table carved from dark mahogany. At its center sat Lord Callius, one of the foreign delegates, his narrowed eyes studying everything. Across from him, a high-ranking general toyed with his goblet, his armor gleaming faintly.

"Liora," the queen murmured, "you’ll sit here."

It was a seat two spaces from the Dowager, close enough to be seen, far enough to be reminded of her place.

Liora took it.

The conversation began with pleasantries, but it didn’t take long for sharper threads to weave through.

"Your Grace," Lord Callius said, "I hear this young woman has caught Prince Lucien’s favor."

"Has she?" the Dowager mused. "I’ve heard many things."

"She is beautiful." His smile was thin. "But is she useful?"

Liora didn’t flinch. "That depends on how you define useful, my lord. A quiet mouth? A sharp mind? Or the ability to survive?"

That got a few heads turning.

The general raised a brow. "A sharp tongue too."

"She’s been taught restraint," Evelyne said quickly, shooting Liora a warning glance.

"She taught herself," the Queen Dowager corrected, eyes still on her goblet. "Like her mother."

There it was again, that weight. That warning.

Liora looked across the hall and stilled.

Lucien had arrived.

Clad in black with crimson embroidery curling around the edges of his tunic, he moved like a shadow stitched into form. Heads turned, some nodded respectfully, and others hesitated.

He made his way to his designated seat, one across from Lord Callius. A power move.

But then his gaze landed on her.

And stopped.

He took his seat without acknowledging her, but his jaw had tightened, and his shoulders squared. He knew she wasn’t supposed to be here.

He knew something was coming.

Dinner was served, and conversations continued, but beneath the clinking of goblets and shallow laughter, tension crackled like a storm waiting to break.

The Queen Dowager tapped her goblet.

"A toast," she said, rising. "To new alliances, old bloodlines, and the thorns we grow to protect our roses."

Liora met Lucien’s gaze across the table.

Neither of them smiled.

The war had officially begun.

The corridors outside the banquet hall were silent.

Too silent.

Liora’s footsteps echoed faintly as she was led by a servant down a different path than she had come. No Evelyne. No Dowager. No crowd. Only her heartbeat, hard and heavy, and the distant thud of the great doors closing behind the festivities.

The moment the servant turned the corner and disappeared, another figure emerged from the shadows like smoke.

Lucien.

He stepped into her path without warning. "What were you doing at that table?"

Liora didn’t flinch. "Dining."

"With them?" His voice dropped, low and cold. "That table wasn’t meant for pawns."

"I wasn’t invited as a pawn." She met his gaze, unshaken. "I was placed by the Queen Dowager. You saw it."

"And you accepted it?"

"I would have looked weaker if I refused."

"You already looked exposed," he snapped. "You sat surrounded by enemies, Callius, General Mertin, and Evelyne, and spoke like you were born to the court."

"I had no choice."

"There’s always a choice," he growled, stepping closer.

"No." Liora’s eyes narrowed. "Not when your name is used like a weapon. Not when they pit me against you to test how much I matter to you."

A beat of silence stretched between them.

Lucien studied her face. "You think that was a test?"

"I know it was."

He moved then, fast, too fast. His hand reached out and grasped her wrist, not cruelly, but firmly enough to still her retreat.

"You shouldn’t have answered Callius. You gave him more than a name. You gave him curiosity."

"I gave him defiance," she shot back. "And you didn’t say a word."

Lucien’s eyes flickered. "I couldn’t. That was the point."

"So we both played roles tonight."

"No, Liora," he said, voice suddenly rough. "You stepped into a game you don’t understand."

"And whose fault is that?" she whispered.

Lucien’s grip loosened. Her words struck deeper than either of them expected.

For a second, something flickered across his face. Regret. Or guilt.

Then it was gone.

He turned his back to her.

"Stay away from Callius," he said over his shoulder. "Don’t speak to him again without my presence. And next time you sit among wolves, remember..."

"I’ve lived among wolves my whole life," Liora said quietly.

Lucien paused.

Then, with a final glance...sharp, unreadable...he disappeared down the corridor.

Liora stood still, her pulse slowing, the burn of his touch fading from her skin.

She had crossed a line tonight.

And she wasn’t sure if Lucien would drag her back...

...or let her fall.

The palace never truly slept. Even when the moon drifted past the highest towers, and the laughter of nobles faded into embers, the walls breathed secrets.

Liora had not slept. She lay beneath silk sheets, her eyes tracing the canopy overhead while the fire in the hearth died a slow death. Her thoughts had circled endlessly, ...Lucien’s words, Callius’ gaze, and the flicker of emotion she thought she saw in Lucien when she challenged him.

A soft knock came at the door just as dawn lit the edge of the curtains.

She sat up at once.

It wasn’t the usual knock of her assigned maid, nor the precise rhythm of a palace servant. It was careful. Intentional. Liora slipped from the bed, her night robe clutched at her waist, and walked to the door.

She opened it just slightly.

No one stood outside.

Just the corridor...and a folded paper lying like a fallen petal near the threshold.

She looked both ways, then picked it up quickly and shut the door.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it.

The handwriting was unfamiliar. Sharp. Rushed.

"Not everything is as it seems. Do not trust the one who watches you in kindness. The Queen Dowager is not your only audience."

Beneath the message was a symbol.

A crescent pierced by an arrow.

Her breath caught. That symbol... she’d seen it once. On her father’s journal...before Evelyne burned it.

She re-read the note three times, but it didn’t change.

Someone had been watching. Someone who knew about her family.

Liora crossed to the fire, tossed in a fresh log, and stared into the flames.

She had two choices: take this as a warning or as a trap.

A whisper of movement behind her made her freeze.

"Couldn’t sleep?" a voice asked.

Lucien.

He stood at the edge of her chamber like a shadow pressed to the wall. His cloak was damp from the morning dew.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, keeping her voice calm.

"Long enough to wonder if you always pace when you’re alone."

Liora slipped the letter behind a candle stand. "Were you watching me?"

Lucien didn’t answer right away. "Callius is leaving the palace today. Whatever test the Queen Dowager planned... it’s far from over."

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you come here to warn me?"

"No," he said. "I came to see if you regretted last night."

"I don’t," she said.

"Good." His tone was unreadable. "Because regret will only slow you down in this place."

And with that, he turned and walked away again....always retreating before she could peel back his layers.

Liora turned back to the note.

There were layers behind every kindness here. Even Lucien’s.

Especially Lucien’s.

And someone...hidden in the dark...had begun to peel them for her.

The paper burned slowly in the flame, curling like a dead leaf. Liora watched it vanish, making sure no trace remained before she tucked the crescent-arrow symbol deep into her memory.

She didn’t tell Lucien.

And when Callius left, she didn’t wave goodbye.

Instead, Liora asked for a walk in the gardens, quietly, without attendants. And oddly, no one stopped her. Not even Edgar.

The guards at the archway looked at each other, unsure, but one nod from a shadowed figure above, a man in black watching from the second balcony, let her pass.

She didn’t glance up.

The palace gardens were vast but not entirely tamed. The Queen Dowager had left certain patches untouched...sacred, some said, from the old religion. It was to one such patch that Liora wandered.

She remembered the crescent arrow.

Near the edge of the eastern grove, beneath a twisted fig tree, she found a rusted plaque hidden behind thick vines. She brushed them aside, fingers trembling.

The words were half-faded, but she could make them out.

"Here stood the House of Myrr, guardians of the Veil."