CHAPTER 75: CHAPTER 76 – THE BANQUET OF KNIVES

The sound still rang in the air — a high, sharp echo that seemed far too loud for such a delicate thing.

The goblet lay in jagged pieces, its stem snapped clean, wine pooling and spreading like a dark bloom across the white tablecloth. The red seeped toward the polished silverware, curling around the prongs of a fork as though it sought to stain every inch it touched.

Every noble in the hall had frozen mid-motion, their expressions frozen masks of civility while their eyes told a different story — glittering with calculation, suspicion, and the thrill of the hunt. The clink of glass and murmur of voices had vanished, replaced by a silence so taut it felt like the whole room was holding its breath.

The man who’d stood — a tall, lean courtier with hair like spun silver — adjusted the cuffs of his embroidered sleeves with deliberate care. "My apologies," he said to no one in particular. His voice was calm. Too calm. "A slip of the hand."

Kai didn’t believe it for a second. Neither did Velis, who now had one hand buried under the tablecloth, knuckles pale around the hilt of his dagger.

The Queen, radiant and utterly unbothered, regarded the spill as though it were an exotic insect that had wandered onto her plate. "A shame," she murmured, swirling the wine in her own untouched goblet. "But a banquet is nothing without a little... unpredictability."

A few nobles laughed — that high, brittle laugh people make when they’re pretending nothing’s wrong.

Astra leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other with feline grace. "I do love when dinner comes with entertainment," she said, her voice warm but her eyes cutting toward Kai with a private warning.

Lyra still hadn’t touched her goblet. Her fingers rested on its stem, but her gaze was locked on Kai’s face — unwavering, dissecting, as if she could find the exact thought he was trying to hide.

Servants appeared as if conjured, blotting at the wine with clean cloths, replacing the ruined plate, refilling glasses. But the air hadn’t reset. The tension had seeped into the stone itself.

The silver-haired courtier resumed his seat at the far end of the table, but Kai caught the faintest twitch of his fingers beneath the cloth — a signal to someone unseen. His eyes lingered a second too long on a guard near the door before looking down again.

Conversations resumed in fractured bursts, though none of them were about the food. Kai caught snippets as the nobles turned their words into weapons, their tones polite but their meaning sharp.

"...trade routes in the south... a pity about the shortages."

"...and her brother still hasn’t returned from the border, has he?"

"...dangerous to be too visible these days."

Each phrase was harmless alone — but here, nothing was harmless. Every word was a feeler, a test, a lure to see who might bite.

A young baron to Kai’s right leaned forward, smiling with all his teeth. "You must feel... privileged, Sir Kai, to sit so close to Her Majesty."

Kai met his eyes without blinking. "I’ve learned that privilege can be the sharpest blade at the table."

The baron chuckled, but his gaze flickered toward Lyra — and Kai didn’t miss it. That flicker meant something. Probably too much.

Further down the table, an elderly duchess tapped her fan twice against her wrist. A signal. Seconds later, a servant poured her wine from a different bottle than the rest.

Kai’s eyes narrowed. The duchess had been part of the Queen’s faction for decades. If she was getting her own wine, it meant one of two things — either she feared being poisoned... or she feared poisoning herself by accident.

Velis’s voice reached him in a low murmur, careful not to move his lips much. "Second balcony, left side. One of the drapes moved."

Kai kept his face neutral, his fingers resting casually on the stem of his untouched glass. "Archer?"

"Maybe. Or worse."

The Queen tapped a finger lightly against her goblet, and silence rippled down the table like a cold wind.

"Tonight," she said, her tone slow and deliberate, "we drink to unity. The kind forged not in ease... but in fire."

Glasses lifted around the table.

But only half of them drank.

The rest held their cups, watching. Waiting.

Kai’s instincts screamed that the toast was a line in the sand — and that anyone who drank had already chosen a side.

The Queen’s smile deepened. "Good. Let us see who still has the stomach for loyalty."

In the corner of Kai’s vision, Astra’s smile didn’t falter — but her fingers tapped once against her thigh, a rhythm she’d used before. A code between them. Two taps, pause, one tap. You’re being watched.

Kai’s gaze swept the hall again. The gleam of rings concealing poisoned needles. The subtle shift of chairs to block lines of sight. A noblewoman’s hand sliding something — paper or folded silk — into a servant’s palm as he refilled her cup. The way the guards at the door suddenly looked less like ornaments and more like predators on a leash.

Velis’s lips barely moved. "You’re in the middle of the board now. And every piece is moving."

Kai’s mind ran through scenarios. If the courtier’s signal was meant for an assassin, then the balcony was the kill point. But if the Queen was staging a spectacle, she’d want the first blow to fall where the most eyes could see. Which meant... the danger might already be sitting at the table.

The air seemed to thin. Even the candlelight felt heavier, shadows clinging a little too long to every movement. A servant passed behind Kai’s chair, lingering just a fraction longer than needed before moving on. His hands were empty. That was what bothered Kai — servants never walked the hall empty-handed.

And then — from the balcony above — a shadow detached itself from the darkness.

A flicker of moonlight caught on steel.

The first blade flew.

Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 77: Blood on Silk

The blade whistles through the candlelit air, a silver arc that seems to slow in Kai’s vision — close enough for him to feel the cold breath of steel as it passes. It bites deep into the back of his chair, inches from his shoulder, quivering in place like a living thing.

Gasps break through the heavy air, sharp and uneven. Some sound like surprise. Others, like satisfaction.

Because not everyone here is horrified.

Some have been waiting for this.

Velis moves before the blade has even stopped vibrating, his chair clattering backward as he rises with steel in hand. Astra’s wine spills in a scarlet ribbon across the table as she stands, chair legs scraping over marble, her golden eyes already sweeping the balconies for the second strike she knows is coming.

Lyra’s fingers ghost over the hidden seam in her gown, where her own weapon waits. She doesn’t draw it yet. Her gaze stays fixed on Kai, as if his reaction matters more than the attack itself — as if he is the key to whatever happens next.

Around them, nobles shift like schools of fish sensing a predator — some retreating, others leaning forward to see the kill. Guards hesitate, waiting for a command that doesn’t come.

The Queen does not rise.

She watches from her seat, head tilted, lips curved into a smile that never touches her eyes.

Calm as a serpent.

The scream comes then — sharp, ragged, and real — echoing off the marble walls.

A second follows, closer this time.

Somewhere, something shatters.

And in that instant, Kai knows the truth:

Tonight, the banquet stops being a game.