Lucian stared after the prince, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and boredom.
"Well, we got off scot-free at least," he muttered, smirking as he rolled his shoulders. Honestly, it wasn't even the most dramatic noble tantrum he'd witnessed—not by a long shot.
Fey let out a deep, exhausted sigh, like a man who'd just sprinted through a field of landmines.
"Well… yeah. Sure," he said with a nervous chuckle, still recovering from his near meltdown.
He straightened, planting his hands on his hips. "So… what now?"
Lucian ran a hand through his hair, grinning.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm going right back in."
He turned to head for the manor doors again, but Fey grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt.
"No, you're not," Fey said flatly, eyes wide with a mix of irritation and sheer disbelief.
"You're clearly an attention-seeking menace. Maybe try enjoying the ball like a normal noble?"
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
Fey counted off on his fingers, tone dry but earnest.
"Make allies. Taste the finest food in the kingdom. Don't start another scandal."
He faltered slightly. "And… uhh… try not to flirt with royalty?"
Lucian considered him for a moment. Fey had just thrown himself in front of the Third Prince's wrath on his behalf.
Maybe he deserved to be humored—for now.
Lucian exhaled dramatically, spinning on his heel before giving Fey an exaggerated, sweeping bow.
"The great Lucian, at your service."
He smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Of course, just because he was going along with it didn't mean he was giving up on his plan.
He'd just… improvise.
After all, the night was still young.
"I somehow don't believe that," Fey said with a chuckle, then sighed. "But sure—come on. I'll show you how a normal noble has fun at a ball."
They re-entered the manor, the once-bustling hall now notably quieter. Wherever Reina had gone, the rest of the crowd had followed.
"What about food?" Fey offered, heading toward a nearby mahogany table adorned with fine desserts. He picked up an elegantly decorated petit four and took a bite, his expression melting with satisfaction.
"Oh yeah. That hit the spot."
Lucian chuckled but didn't follow suit. "Still full from earlier."
Fey gave him a flat look. "Yeah, yeah… we get it. Lunch with the Duke and his daughter. No need to remind me every ten minutes."
Lucian laughed, genuinely amused. He'd met plenty who weren't intimidated by him, but rarely someone who didn't even know him and still gave him this much sass. Refreshing, really.
"You're bolder than you look," Lucian said, joining Fey by the table. He didn't eat, just took in the aroma like it was enough.
Fey shrugged, grabbing another petit four and popping it into his mouth. "I'm just the son of a count. I get more freedom than barons or dukes. Fewer eyes watching."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it the opposite? A count's heir has to work twice as hard to maintain rank—prove they belong."
Fey finished chewing before replying, voice casual but honest. "Sure. But I've got no grand ambition. Being a count means a decent life. As long as I keep my region stable and peaceful, I'm good. That's more than enough for me."
Lucian studied him, smiling faintly.
Fey's sincerity wasn't just rare—it was the kind of noble mindset Lucian had long hoped for. The kind of ruler he wanted to see emerge after the last Dark Lord fell. One of the reasons he'd faked his own death in the first place.
To fix the world his way.
And that included removing the unfit… one noble at a time.
After their chat, a group of young nobles entered from another wing of the manor, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings. One of them trailed behind, slumped in pure defeat.
"That's what you get for confessing to Lady Reina at her own ball," one noble cackled, clapping the slumped one on the back.
"Seriously, what were you thinking? She's miles out of your league," another said, wiping tears of laughter from the corner of his eye.
The defeated noble lifted his head—and his eyes landed on Lucian.
"Oh… wait… it's you!" He straightened up immediately, trying to salvage his dignity. "I heard you dined with the Duke and Lady Reina! Care to share some advice?"
Before Lucian could answer, one of the noble's friends yanked him back by the collar, dragging him away.
"He's clearly into Lady Reina too, after that scandal earlier," the friend hissed. "You're asking the worst person for help."
The first noble looked betrayed but didn't resist as they were shuffled toward the manor's exit, whispering heatedly between themselves.
Fey burst out laughing. "Oh man, someone actually tried confessing to Lady Reina? And then he wants you to be his love coach?"
Lucian ran a hand through his hair, smiling with amused disbelief. "Is she really that important?"
Fey raised an eyebrow, only half surprised at Lucian's ignorance. "Uh, yeah. Her father, Duke Reid, is one of the highest-ranking dukes in the kingdom. He serves as regent when the king's unavailable."
He shrugged, biting into another petit four. "But honestly? Only the older nobles talk to her because of that. The younger ones just fall for her looks."
Lucian's smirk returned, mischievous and curious all at once. He leaned a little closer.
"And what about you, Fey?"
Fey cleared his throat quickly, startled by the sudden shift in energy. "Well, I mean, of course I do… but I know my limits." He gave Lucian a playful shove, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. "Unlike some people."
"I know you're talking about me," Lucian said, staring at Fey as he popped another petit four into his mouth. "You're quite the glutton, aren't you?"
He chuckled, but the amusement faded quickly.
A sudden glint—then motion.
A knife sliced through the air toward Fey.
Lucian reacted instantly, his mantle flaring outward. Shadows surged from its edges and swallowed the blade mid-flight, the weapon vanishing into darkness with a soft hiss.
"You sensed that, right?" Lucian asked, turning to check on Fey.
Fey stood tall, calm, his fingers already snapping. A moment later, his Codex shimmered into existence beside him.
"I didn't think they'd come here," he said with a faint smile, flipping the Codex open to a marked page.
"Benevolent Lord," he intoned.
His eyes glowed—a brilliant, draconian green.
The Codex shimmered to life beside him—not with the soft pulse of a novice, but a radiant surge that cast shadows across the marble floor. Even Lucian blinked at the sheer intensity.
He watched with mild amusement, reminded that even the least ambitious nobles still wielded power through their Codices.
Fey scanned the room, eyes trailing across the walls, the ceiling—places Lucian couldn't see into. His gaze flicked from shadow to shadow, seeking out what lingered just beyond reach.
"They've already left," he said at last, his glow fading. "I can't see them anymore."
Lucian placed a hand on Fey's shoulder, brows drawing together.
"You're… fine with what just happened?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "The son of a count just got targeted for assassination. That doesn't bother you?"
Fey gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's probably the count who borders my father's land. He's been itching for conflict."
"It's not the first time he's sent someone," Fey added with a sigh, like he was tired of the paperwork more than the danger.
Then, with a sigh and a smirk: "But don't worry—I could've handled it without your help. Still, thanks for the save."
He turned and strolled toward another wing of the manor, calling over his shoulder.
"Come on. Let's get back to the ball."