Layla couldn't believe her eyes.
Before her stretched a sea of silk and light, a world far removed from anything she had ever known.
The guests, adorned in their finest attire, laughed, drank, and danced with effortless grace.
Long tables groaned under the weight of the most refined delicacies, golden goblets overflowed with shimmering wine, and music filled the air with an enchanting melody.
She moved slowly through the crowd, feeling the weight of curious gazes trailing her every step.
She was not invisible tonight.
Her dress flowed around her like a wave of midnight stars, and under the golden glow of the chandeliers, she seemed to shimmer with a quiet, mysterious radiance.
Then, in a fleeting moment, her gaze landed on him.
Oris.
He sat slightly apart from the others, watching the festivities with an unreadable expression.
But what Layla didn't realize… was that he had noticed her long before she had noticed him.
An amused glint flickered in his golden eyes as she finally met his gaze.
Layla narrowed her eyes slightly and teased,
— Ah… so you're the poor wounded man I had to tend to just a few hours ago?
Without waiting for a response, she turned her head and walked away.
She preferred not to linger near the prince. He had a strange way of unsettling her.
She found a quieter corner and settled there, taking a moment to compose herself.
And that's when Lysandra appeared, her graceful silhouette cutting through the dim light.
She stopped just in front of Layla, her lips curling into a smile laced with mischief.
— I had no idea we had such charming healers in our midst.
Layla returned her smile calm, poised but there was a playful glimmer in her eyes.
— You should try my remedies sometime. They work wonders.
Lysandra let out a soft, crystalline laugh, one that sounded real.
Then, without another word, she cast a quick glance toward Oris, as if signaling something.
Layla subtly followed her gaze.
Oris was still there.
And he was still watching her.
The moment Xadran crossed the threshold, a chilling tension fell over the hall.
His steps were heavy, deliberate, his gaze sweeping over the guests like a predator assessing its prey.
Layla felt her stomach tighten.
A cold shiver climbed her spine.
She couldn't help but recall their last encounter… and the danger he represented.
Her instincts screamed at her to vanish, to blend into the crowd.
But it was too late.
He had seen her.
With a sidelong glance full of unspoken meaning, he smirked a slow, icy curve of his lips, savoring her discomfort.
Layla's breath hitched.
Reflexively, she searched for an escape, but before she could move, a calming presence settled beside her.
Lysandra.
With smooth, effortless grace, the siren stepped forward, subtly placing herself between Layla and Xadran.
— Are you enjoying the ball? Lysandra asked, her voice light yet loud enough for all to hear.
Layla nodded stiffly, forcing a smile, but her hands trembled slightly.
Only then did Xadran finally shift his focus but it wasn't to let her go.
He had simply chosen another target.
He approached Oris, his false, taunting smile barely masking the venom in his gaze.
The entire hall held its breath.
Xadran stopped in front of the prince, his voice slow, laced with mockery.
— So, are you enjoying yourself, Oris? I thought you despised these kinds of celebrations.
Oris didn't look up immediately.
His gaze flickered first to Layla before he slowly, lazily, turned his attention to the man before him.
Then, with a voice calm, indifferent, he replied:
— Let's just say… I take pleasure in seeing your discomfort.
A muffled chuckle rippled through the crowd.
Xadran's jaw tightened.
Oris, completely at ease, leaned back slightly, his tone still nonchalant.
— Would have preferred to stay on the battlefield. After all, festivities… that's your domain.
Xadran chuckled, but his eyes burned with barely concealed fury.
He stepped closer, just enough to shorten the distance between them.
— I'll let you celebrate… just for tonight.
Then, with a final smirk, he turned on his heel and exited the hall, leaving behind a lingering unease.
It took a moment for the atmosphere to breathe again.
But Layla she didn't move.
Her gaze, as if drawn by an unseen force, sought out Oris.
And she found him.
Already looking at her.
This time, she couldn't look away.
He said nothing.
He didn't move.
But his gaze…
Why?
Why did he give her all this attention… only to do nothing?
Her heart pounded, a strange warmth creeping up her neck.
Finally, unable to endure the weight of his silence, she lowered her eyes.
But one thought haunted her.
Why the silence?