Gabriel didn't move. He saw her hand rise, her body coiling with fury and grief, but he didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
'God damn it.' He thought as he braced himself for the impact. He was well aware that wounding a foreign princess would have serious consequences.
But before Anya's palm could make contact, another hand grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.
"How bold of you, Princess," a smooth, almost amused voice cut through the tension. "Striking one of my people in my own court? That is a rather dangerous habit."
Damian.
The air in the ballroom shifted, the weight of his presence suffocating. Whereas the nobles had previously been captivated by Gabriel and Anya's confrontation, all eyes were now focused on the Emperor himself.
