Succubi Chapter 228. The Banquet II
Succubi Chapter 228. The Banquet II
Alyra’s hand rested lightly on my arm.
Just placed there, elegant and calm, but I felt the pressure of her fingers shift once. Small. Almost nothing.
I noticed anyway.
Cassian approached with Mirena Sol at his side, and honestly, if I had to describe him in one word?
Polished.
The kind of man who probably practiced smiling in mirrors and thought sincerity was something servants handled. His white-and-gold suit looked expensive, of course. His hair was perfect. His posture was perfect. His smile was perfect.
Which meant everything underneath was probably rotten or insecure.
Sometimes perfection was not confidence.
Sometimes it was packaging.
Mirena, beside him, was softer at first glance. Red dress, delicate shoulders, graceful neck, eyes lowered just enough to look gentle. She clung to Cassian’s arm with both hands, body tilted toward him like he was her shelter from a cruel world.
I knew this flavor.
Because I had seen girls like her before. Innocent face. Weak voice. Strategic fragility. The kind that made men feel heroic while she quietly positioned the knife.
She looked at Alyra first.
Then at me.
And her eyes lingered half a second too long.
Assessing.
Curious.
A new variable.
I kept my face calm.
Alyra’s smile became colder beside me.
Cassian stopped in front of us.
“Alyra,” he said.
“Cassian.”
No warmth.
Cassian’s gaze shifted to me. Up and down. Slow. Deliberate. Not the way Alyra assessed me earlier. Hers had been appreciative and strategic. His was dismissive. Searching for flaws. The suit. The shoes. The posture. The face. Trying to place me, trying to decide where I ranked, trying to make me feel smaller by the weight of his gaze alone.
I had been looked down on by family in cheap dining rooms. By exam systems that “accidentally” failed me. By people who thought being quiet meant being less. By my former teachers, students, and my own damn luck.
A noble boy scanning me like an item on display?
That wasn’t even a full attack.
That was an appetizer.
“I thought you would come alone,” Cassian said to Alyra, voice smooth enough for the nearby nobles to hear. “Not take some random man just to insult me like this.”
He wanted me to react.
Maybe he expected anger. Poor people often reacted fast when someone hinted they didn’t belong. Insecurity was a wound. Press it correctly, and people flinched before they could think. He probably knew that. Men like him loved testing unknowns with class.
But unfortunately for him?
I was Pride.
Insulting my background didn’t make me smaller.
It made my spine straighter.
Alyra’s chin lifted, and her voice slid out smooth as silk. “Careful, Cassian. You’re speaking about my guest.”
Her defense was elegant. Controlled. Not desperate. Not loud.
Good.
But this was my role too.
And if I let him define me first, he’d think he had permission to keep doing it.
So I smiled. Just enough to show teeth without showing hunger.
“We have never met, Mr. Vale,” I said calmly. “That is very bold of you, labeling me as a random man.”
Cassian’s eyes sharpened.
The nobles nearby quieted further. Not too much. Not too little. Polite enough to survive. Sharp enough to draw blood.
Cassian smiled. “Then perhaps you should introduce yourself.”
“Evan Blackthorn.”
A faint flicker passed through his gaze.
Unknown.
Still unknown.
Excellent.
“A distant relation?” he asked.
“Distant enough not to bore strangers with genealogy at a banquet.”
Someone behind a fan gave a tiny cough that might have been a laugh.
Cassian’s smile tightened another millimeter.
Alyra’s hand shifted against my arm.
Approval.
Mirena moved then. Softly.
“Cassian,” she said, her voice gentle and sweet, like warm milk laced with poison. “Don’t fight. You promised me.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes, lashes lowered just enough to look pleading.
“We invited her to make peace,” she continued. “I don’t want to be labeled as the bad one here.”
Absolutely textbook.
She didn’t say Alyra was unreasonable, she implied it.
She didn’t say Cassian was aggressive, she restrained him in public, making herself look kind and him look passionate.
She didn’t say she stole anything. She said she didn’t want to be labeled bad, meaning the label already existed, and she was the fragile victim of cruel gossip.
Classic.
Alyra’s fingers went still on my arm.
I didn’t look at her.
I looked at Mirena.
She met my gaze for a brief second. Then lowered her eyes.
Trying to take my attention too, huh?
The moment she spoke, she angled her body slightly. Not fully toward me. That would be too obvious. Just enough that her neckline caught the light and her expression invited a man to feel protective. If I responded too warmly, Alyra looked embarrassed. If I ignored her too coldly, Mirena looked wounded. If I attacked her, I became the rude stranger bullying a delicate lady.
Trap layered with perfume.
Typical Green tea woman.
Unfortunately for her, I also had tea.
Greener tea.
Pride demon edition.
I softened my expression. Just slightly.
“Oh,” I said gently. “Lady Sol, please don’t trouble yourself with such fears.”
Her eyes lifted.
Cassian blinked.
Alyra glanced at me from the corner of her eye.
I continued, voice calm and warm enough to sound kind to anyone listening. “No one here would be so cruel as to label a woman bad merely because she stands beside someone she loves.”
Mirena’s lips parted.
For a second, she looked relieved.
Then I smiled. “After all, intentions reveal themselves naturally over time.”
A few nobles immediately understood.
Mirena understood too. Her face didn’t change much, but her fingers tightened around Cassian’s arm.
I wasn’t accusing her. I was simply saying time exposed people.
Green tea returned to sender, brewed with royal arrogance.
Cassian’s gaze narrowed. “You speak well for someone unknown.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not praise.”
“I accepted it as one.”
Alyra made the tiniest sound beside me. Not laughter. Almost.