CHAPTER 74: CHAPTER 75 — THE BANQUET OF KNIVES 1

The herald’s voice rang out, smooth as silk, sharp as a blade.

"Sir Kai of Velshorn... Champion of the South."

The massive doors groaned open, and the warmth of the banquet hall rolled over him like a wave — not the comforting hearthfire kind, but the stifling heat of too many eyes watching, measuring, deciding.

Kai stepped forward. His boots struck polished marble, the sound crisp and hollow, echoing into the vaulted chamber. For an instant, the echo was the only thing moving — every other presence in the room had turned toward him.

A hundred nobles watched.

A hundred smiles bloomed like poisonous flowers.

He walked the long aisle between tables set with enough silverware to arm a small militia. The chandeliers dripped gold light over jeweled goblets and crystal decanters. To the untrained eye, it was a feast.

To Kai, it was an armory.

Velis was already inside, standing near the wine table with the casual stillness of a predator waiting for the wind to shift. His hand rested lightly on the table’s edge, his attention fixed not on the wine, but on the shadowed recesses between the marble columns.

Astra stood halfway across the hall, in conversation with a pair of silk-draped dignitaries. Her lips curved in a smile that could make lesser men forget their own names. But Kai knew the faint, almost imperceptible crackle in her voice — a dangerous undercurrent only he had learned to hear.

And Lyra...

Lyra sat at the Queen’s right hand, posture perfect, gaze fixed on him like an arrow aimed at the space between his ribs. No warmth there. Only calculation.

And then there was the Queen.

The Queen was smiling.

The scents in the room layered over one another — roasted pheasant with rosemary, figs dripping honey, the faint tang of spiced wine. But underneath, almost hidden, was the sharp iron edge of polished steel and the faint bitterness of poison-laced oils.

The chandeliers’ warm light softened no edges. If anything, it sharpened them — gleaming off jeweled rings, gilded goblets, and the polished blades some nobles wore openly at their sides. The air was heavy, not from the feast, but from the silent agreements, grudges, and ambitions packed into the hall.

A servant pulled back the chair to the Queen’s left.

An honor. Or a death sentence.

Kai inclined his head, careful to show neither arrogance nor submission. "Your Majesty."

Her gesture was as fluid as poured wine. "Sir Kai. We were beginning to wonder if you would keep us waiting."

The Queen’s voice was velvet over steel. Around the table, a few nobles chuckled. It wasn’t humor. It was the kind of laughter people made when a fox entered the henhouse — interested, watchful, and ready to bolt or bite.

Kai sat. The chair was too comfortable, the way a spider’s web is comfortable for the fly. He could feel the weight of every glance in the room settling on his shoulders like the press of storm clouds before the break.

The Queen raised her goblet.

"Let us drink," she declared.

Crystal chimed across the table, the sound as delicate as glass but carrying the authority of command. Conversation resumed, measured and careful, like dancers keeping to a rhythm no one could see.

Knives glinted under candlelight. Some were for carving meat. Others... were for carving reputations.

Velis caught Kai’s gaze across the room. His expression didn’t change, but a fractional shake of the head was all the signal Kai needed. Not yet.

Astra, still smiling at her companions, let her eyes slide toward him for the briefest heartbeat. The glance carried a single, dangerous truth: Tonight is not a banquet. It’s a battlefield dressed in silk.

Kai’s attention swept the room.

Three exits. Two balconies with clear vantage points. One corridor where a guard leaned against the wall, feigning boredom.

Lyra’s goblet was full, untouched. Velis’s plate was bare, but his right hand rested under the table, fingers curled in the way they always were when holding the hilt of a dagger.

A servant passed behind Kai’s chair, too slow for comfort, the faint scent of bitterroot clinging to his sleeve. Kai let his hand rest near his own blade — not to draw, but to remind anyone watching that he was never unarmed.

The Queen’s voice sliced through the low murmur of voices.

"Tonight, we celebrate unity," she said, "The kind born not of convenience... but of necessity."

Her tone was light, almost playful, but the words carried weight. Every person here had something to lose. And the Queen was reminding them she could take it.

Kai forced himself to eat slowly, each bite a measured act. The pheasant was perfectly cooked — skin crisp, meat tender — but he swallowed without tasting it. Every muscle stayed coiled, waiting.

He let the nobles’ conversation wash over him in fragments. A merchant prince boasting of new trade routes to the east. A minor lord lamenting his cousin’s untimely illness — said illness being far too convenient to be natural. And somewhere between the clink of cutlery and the laughter at a jest too weak to deserve it, Kai caught the faint, unmistakable rhythm of boots in the hall beyond the doors.

Someone was coming.

Someone important.

Then came the sound.

CRACK!

A sharp shatter from the far end of the table.

Every head turned.

A goblet lay in jagged pieces, wine spilling like blood across pristine white linen. The man who’d held it — a mid-tier noble with ambitions far larger than his lands — was already on his feet, stepping back so quickly it was clear he hadn’t just dropped it.

He’d thrown it.

The target had been deliberate — a younger courtier who now stared down at his soaked sleeve, jaw clenched, as if deciding whether to answer the insult with words or steel.

The Queen did not move. Her lips curved upward, slow and faint.

She would not intervene.

This... was the first play of the night.

Kai sat back slightly, every instinct whispering caution. This wasn’t about spilled wine. This was a test — for someone in the room. Maybe for him.

Velis’s posture shifted, his weight now forward, as if ready to cross the room in a heartbeat. Astra’s smile deepened, though her companions were too enchanted to notice the way her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword. Lyra’s eyes didn’t leave Kai — not once.

The Queen’s gaze slid toward him then, just for a fraction of a second.

Invitation.

Challenge.

Trap.

Kai knew the rules of this game: speak too soon, and you brand yourself a meddler. Stay silent too long, and you become irrelevant. Either way, you are marked.

And tonight, marks had a way of turning into gravestones.

The two men at the center of the spill stood frozen, one dripping with red wine, the other with a hand still twitching from the throw.

The court’s chatter died entirely.

"Apologize," the younger courtier said.

His voice was steady, but Kai heard the thread of steel underneath.

The older noble sneered. "To you? You’re lucky I didn’t throw the knife."

A ripple of soft, eager laughter spread from a few seats down the table. It was the laughter of those who didn’t care who bled, so long as it wasn’t them.

Kai could almost see the tension threads winding tighter in the air. One spark, and the room would burn.

The Queen did nothing.

Of course she didn’t. This was her theater. The actors could improvise their own demise while she watched from the royal box.

Kai glanced at Lyra. She was sipping her wine now, the crystal catching the candlelight. But she wasn’t watching the quarrel — she was watching him.

She wants to see what I’ll do, Kai realized. So does the Queen.

Velis shifted his stance. Astra’s gaze flicked toward the far wall.

The servants’ corridor — the one he’d noticed earlier — now had a shadow moving against the torchlight. Not a servant. The gait was too controlled, too deliberate.

Kai’s fingers itched for his blade. But drawing it here would be stepping into the Queen’s game entirely.

The younger courtier made his decision first.

His chair scraped against the floor, and he drew a slender dagger from his belt — ceremonial in theory, but the edge glinted with fresh oil.

The older noble’s lips curled in challenge, and his hand went to his own blade.

The first sound was the hiss of steel leaving leather.

The second was the sudden, sharp ring of a goblet being set down hard.

The Queen had not risen. She hadn’t raised her voice. But the sound cut through the tension like a blade.

"Gentlemen," she said softly. "You will settle this with dignity."

She didn’t say don’t fight. She didn’t say put your weapons away.

Her words were a leash — one that could be pulled tight at any moment.

The two men hesitated. Then, slowly, they lowered their weapons... though neither took their hand off the hilt.

The Queen smiled again, faint and unreadable. "Now. Let us proceed. Sir Kai — you were about to tell us of your recent... accomplishments."

It wasn’t a request.

Kai’s jaw tightened. This was the true move. Put him in the spotlight, force him to speak before a hall of predators while the real danger — whatever those masked figures were doing — moved in the shadows.

His mind split into two tracks.

One: speak just enough truth to keep the Queen interested but the nobles guessing.

Two: keep one eye on the servants’ corridor and the other on the nearest threat.

He rose slightly from his chair.

"I have no accomplishments worth troubling Your Majesty with," Kai said, voice steady. "Only the fulfillment of duty."

Murmurs passed through the crowd like the rustle of a snake through dry grass. Some smiled in approval; others frowned, disappointed he hadn’t taken the bait to boast.

The Queen tilted her head, studying him. "Humble. Dangerous. A rare combination."

Her fingers drummed once against the table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That was the same rhythm as earlier in the throne room.

The masked figures were here.

Kai spotted one in the far corner now, half-hidden behind a marble column. Another lingered by the balcony doors. A third... was moving directly behind Lyra’s chair.

Velis caught the movement too. His posture didn’t change, but his left hand was now curled in the signal they’d used a dozen times before: Ready.

Astra’s gaze locked on Kai’s for the briefest moment — a single nod.

They’d all seen it.

The game had shifted.

The Queen was still smiling.

The nobles were still drinking.

But the trap had teeth now, and they were about to close.

Kai’s next move had to be perfect. One wrong step, and the banquet would become a bloodbath — with him as the centerpiece.

Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 76: The Banquet of Knives 2

The hall freezes as the shattered goblet’s wine snakes toward the Queen’s plate.

No one breathes.

The man who stood moves with the poise of someone who’s already decided whether he’s here to toast... or kill.

Velis’s hand slips beneath the table. Astra’s smile sharpens. Lyra’s eyes never leave Kai’s.

The Queen raises her glass, unshaken, as if daring anyone to interrupt her feast.

And then the first knife is drawn.

Call to Action:

Steel your nerves, summon your wit, and stay very, very still — because in the Banquet of Knives, the wrong move doesn’t just end the night... it ends you. Turn the page, and let the games begin.