Succubi Chapter 227. The Banquet I
Succubi Chapter 227. The Banquet I
The car stopped.
Immediately, a servant stepped forward and opened her door. Another came to mine.
I waited half a heartbeat, remembering the etiquette video I watched years ago while pretending I was just “curious.” Then I stepped out smoothly, not rushing, not looking amazed.
Even though, emotionally, yes.
I was absolutely gawking.
The moment my shoes touched the driveway, the servants looked at me.
Not dramatically.
They were too trained for that.
But I felt it.
Every small glance. Every measured flick of the eyes. The pause that lasted less than a second but said everything.
New face.
Unknown man.
Arriving with Lady Alyra Veyne.
Dressed well enough to belong, but not recognized enough to be safe.
I kept my expression still.
The kind of face that said, ‘Yes, I am new. No, you may not ask why’.
Alyra stepped out of the car, and I offered my hand before the servant could.
Her gaze shifted to my hand.
For one instant, amusement touched her eyes.
Then she accepted.
Her fingers slid into mine with perfect timing, and I guided her from the car like I had done this a hundred times.
The servant near the door bowed. “Lady Veyne.”
“A pleasure,” Alyra said calmly.
His eyes moved to me.
Just once.
No introduction yet.
He bowed again. “The banquet has already begun, my lady.”
Alyra smiled. A calm, polite smile that contained zero apology.
“Then Lord Vale will be delighted,” she said. “He always preferred an entrance.”
The servant’s face did not change.
Alyra didn’t explain more. She simply lifted her chin slightly and began walking toward the stairs, her hand still resting on mine.
I followed at her side.
The servants escorted us inside with trained grace. No one asked who I was. No one stared too long.
But they all noticed.
The entrance hall was grand enough to make my inner poverty kneel.
Polished marble floors with black and gold veins. A chandelier hanging like a captured constellation. Tall walls decorated with portraits, banners, and fresh flowers arranged in ways that probably cost more than mission armor. The air smelled of perfume, candles, wine, and expensive food.
Music drifted from beyond the hall.
Strings.
Piano.
Something soft and elegant, alive with movement.
We passed through an arched doorway guarded by two attendants, and then the banquet opened before me.
For one second, I forgot to breathe properly.
Because this was something from a romance movie. No… A fantasy drama.
The kind Queenie watched while sighing loudly on the couch, hugging a pillow, complaining that real life was unfair because no noble prince had arrived at our door yet.
Well. Sorry, Queenie.
Your adopted brother arrived first.
The ballroom was massive.
At the center stretched an open dancing hall, the polished floor glowing under chandelier light. Couples moved across it in slow elegant patterns, gowns sweeping like waves, suits turning like shadows. Beyond the dance floor, long banquet tables formed a wide crescent around the room, covered in white cloth and gold runners. Crystal glasses caught the light. Silverware lined every place setting in terrifying numbers.
At the far end, musicians played on a raised platform. Violins, cello, piano, and something like a harp made of blue crystal. The music didn’t overpower the room. It flowed beneath conversations, lifting laughter and whispers into something polished.
Servants moved everywhere with trays of drinks and small dishes. Nobles stood in clusters, smiling with their mouths while measuring each other with their eyes.
My petty side kicked in hard.
I wanted to take a photo.
No. Better.
A series of photos.
One in front of the chandelier.
One with the dance floor behind me.
One holding a fancy glass.
One with Alyra at my side, caption: ‘Invited to noble banquet tonight. Busy. :D’
Queenie would explode. She would probably stare at the photo, zoom in, ask whether I was lying.
The image of her face gave me energy.
Petty? Yes.
Motivating? Also yes.
But I didn’t reach for my phone.
Because everyone was looking. Not openly.
Again, nobles were too trained for that.
But when we entered, the room shifted.
A ripple passed through conversations. Heads turned slightly. Glasses hovered near lips. A few people glanced at Alyra first, then at me, then at our joined hands.
Unknown man.
Lady Veyne late.
Hand in hand.
I kept my expression calm, almost bored. My chin lifted just enough. My eyes swept the room once without widening.
Inside?
I was counting exits.
Main doorway behind us. Side doors left and right. Balcony stairs near the musicians. Terrace doors at the far wall, probably leading to gardens. Servant route near the banquet tables. Open floor in center, good for duels if furniture got moved. Too many civilians. Unknown combat capability.
My gaze returned forward.
Alyra leaned slightly closer, her voice barely above the music. “You’re doing well.”
An older servant approached, bowing slightly. “Lady Veyne. Lord Vale was informed of your arrival.”
“I’m sure he was.”
“He awaits near the eastern table.”
“Then let him continue awaiting.”
The servant’s mouth twitched once.
Alyra began moving deeper into the room, and I matched her pace.
A woman in a pale blue gown whispered behind a fan as we passed. A man with slick blond hair stared at me too long, so I met his eyes.
He looked away first.
My Pride smiled inside me.
Alyra noticed. “Careful,” she murmured.
“I did nothing.”
“You did something.”
“He stared.”
“And you reminded him not to. You were territorial.”
I glanced at her. “I thought that was my job tonight.”
Her smile flickered, pleased. “True.”
We reached the edge of the dance floor. A few couples spun near us, moving beautifully enough that I immediately thanked every random internet video I had ever watched at two in the morning out of insecurity. At the time, I told myself it was useless trivia.
Now?
Survival skill.
Alyra’s hand tightened faintly around mine.
“There,” she said.
I followed her gaze.
Near the eastern table stood a man in a white-and-gold suit, surrounded by nobles like flies around sweet poison. Tall. Handsome in a polished way. Hair pale blond, combed back perfectly. Smile bright enough to be fake from a distance.
Cassian Vale.
Had to be.
Beside him stood a woman in red, clinging to his arm with practiced softness. Beautiful. Lips curved in a smile that looked sweet until you noticed how carefully it aimed.
Mirena Sol.
Mistress.
The two of them saw Alyra.
Then saw me.
Cassian’s smile didn’t vanish.
It tightened.
Recognition? No. Irritation.
Alyra inhaled once.
I felt it because our arms were close.
I leaned nearer, just enough that anyone watching would think intimacy. My voice stayed low. “Remember,” I said, “Lady Alyra is not someone one approaches lightly.”
Her eyes shifted to me.
For half a second, the mask cracked again.
Something soft appeared. Then she smiled.
Cassian began walking toward us.
Mirena came with him.
The nobles watched.
My heart beat faster from anticipation.