The thought barely settled before he spoke.

“Worse could this night get? The unlucky trot is back here for attention,” Aleho drawled, his eyes glinting as he stepped forward. “Aren’t you sick of wasting your nights, hm? Grinding up against drunk counts until they pass out. Matteo must be proud.”

Alissia tilted her head, smiling as she stared at the protrusion between his legs. “Hm… I don’t remember inviting you to watch, my envious mammal. You look like you’re dying and need to jerk off.”

Spooked, Aleho glanced down at his strained trousers. “Shit.”

She moved closer to him, looking up at his face with a smile. “Need help?”

“You better step back, crank,” he snapped.

Alissia only bent her hips, giggling. “Oh boy, this?” She pointed to his dong. “Can’t be that big. You must’ve added extra fabric to keep it from falling off.”

Aleho’s anger rose as he caught her finger in his grip. “Since we’re already in a private club, why don’t you follow me and find out?”

“You eagerly want an extra scar on your face?” She eyed the pen-stab nick on his left cheek. “Clearly, that therapist of yours should be fired.”

He laughed darkly before dipping his head lower, his grin inches from her face. “Hahaha! You should actually thank him. I stood long enough to entertain you.”

“Awww, yes! Thank you, Your Highness,” she sneered, starting toward the club’s entrance. “If you’re done entertaining, I’m off to my mansion.”

“What are your brother’s true intentions for my sister?” Aleho’s tone shifted, suddenly sharp.

Alissia halted softly. Spinning back to him, she twirled a piece of her soft pink hair around her finger.

“Hmm… I didn’t know myself. Why don’t you ask your dick?”

“This is not a joke, Lady Alissia,” Aleho said stiffly.

“Oh, you do know my name, idiot.” She dropped the piece of hair, lifting her palm to the side. “If I’m being so honest myself, I’m curious to know as well.”

Aleho’s eyes blazed in fury. “Nah. There’s no way I’m buying that.”

“Sell it then.”

Her guards shifted uneasily at her back, hands brushing their hilts. Even Matteo’s messenger, still lurking in the shadows, looked like he wanted to vanish before he was dragged into whatever this was.

Aleho’s smirk widened. “Careful, trot. You keep wagging that tongue, one day someone might actually cut it out.”

She leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “But if my tongue gets cut, how will I give you the gobby you’re looking for?”

One of her guards choked back a laugh, quickly silenced by her glare.

Aleho’s eye twitched as he forced down his annoyance. “A mindless whore or an indispensable liar. I don’t even know which to pick.”

Alissia glanced sideways. “Who is that? You mean yourself?”

“You crazy…”

“We’re both here for the same reasons, Aleho. You being a man doesn’t make you look better.”

Aleho stood speechless.

Alissia just chuckled, flipping her hair as she swayed away from him, heading for the entrance. “Bad night, Aleho. I hope you don’t enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Her guards fell in step behind her. For a second, it seemed she would slip cleanly away. But his voice cut through the air, colder now.

“Tell your brother this: if he thinks he can circle my sister, I’ll bury him. And I don’t care if you’re caught in the grave with him.”

Alissia stilled, hand on the door. The night wind slipped in through the opening, cool against her flushed cheek. She didn’t turn, only let out a lilting laugh, soft and mocking.

“Mm… such passion, Aleho. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared whether I lived or died.”

And with that, she stepped into the night, her laughter echoing against the grand pillars of the Diamond Griffin, leaving Aleho simmering in the glow of the chandeliers.

Aleho’s smirk flattened, eyes narrowing toward the entrance Alissia had vanished through.

…Something’s out of place. The Verritons are hiding something.

***

The Next Day…

The oak doors swung open with a heavy groan.

Kayona entered first, silver curls bright in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the tall windows. Her back was straight, her steps measured, though her chest carried the weight of the moment. Baroness Anita glided at her left, violet eyes sharp beneath her calm smile. Maxwell shadowed her right, tall and unyielding, his deep blue gaze already sweeping the chamber for threats.

The chamber itself was vast, built of polished marble and dark wood paneling, its ceilings high enough to make voices echo. Sunlight spilled through the tall curtains, though half were drawn tight, as if the room preferred its shadows.

At the far end, raised above the floor, sat the Emperor. Medals gleamed across his uniform; his silence carried more weight than words.

Around him, in a crescent of high-backed chairs, lounged the Imperial Council, seven figures whose eyes tracked Kayona with the hunger of wolves.

Duke Matteo Verritton leaned back slightly, golden-brown eyes glinting with amusement. “So… the Archduchess arrives,” he drawled. “With her… pets.”

A slender, pale woman, Duchess Philipa Dolvenhart, crimson eyes narrowed, deep-purple hair framing her severe face. “An heiress,” she said coolly, “propped up by a maid and a guard dog. Impressive.”

Chancellor Rovlor’s angular face appeared next, icy blue eyes cold and calculating. “And yet here she walks as if she belongs,” he said, voice clipped, each word precise, like a blade against marble.

Archduke Dorian Geerich, Aleho’s father, tall and broad, brown-skinned, dark-green hair streaked with silver, golden eyes unblinking, remained silent. But the quiet in him carried authority, a weight that demanded acknowledgment without a single word.

High Priest Hemilio, gray-haired, rings catching the light, also said nothing, but his piercing gaze cut through the chamber, dissecting intentions and secrets alike.

Countess Eveline Varseth, silver-blonde hair, medium height, soft yet commanding, lips pursed, watched Kayona with quiet, calculating scrutiny.

Marquise Selene Aldrev, statuesque, chocolate hair falling over her shoulders, purple eyes steady and observant, remained silent, her stillness sharp as a drawn sword.

Kayona’s eyes did not waver. Maxwell’s shoulders shifted slightly, muscles tensed. Anita’s chin lifted imperceptibly. But the Archduchess’ calm exterior held every subtle movement under scrutiny.

The chamber seemed to tighten, as if the walls themselves leaned in. Every glance, every measured breath, every whispered word was a test.

High Priest Hemilio finally broke the silence, his rings glinting as he folded his hands. “Are you finally ready to defend your title… or throw it to us like a coward?”

The question cracked the air like a whip.

Kayona met the piercing gaze of every council member. Her heartbeat surged, but her voice stayed steady. She had come to play, and the trial had already begun.