Dark Moon Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 525. Tricks I

Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 525. Tricks I

The game between them sharpened visibly now. Still polite. Still elegant. But no one near enough could pretend something had not happened.

Seraphine had tried to create contact.

Angel had refused so completely that it became insult.

Rose had turned that insult into etiquette. Cruelly.

The queen of Pontus recovered, of course. She had survived worse than embarrassment. She turned to the gathered nobles with a light laugh.

“Well, let us not ruin tea with my clumsiness.”

People immediately rushed to agree.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Of course.”

“Such things happen.”

“How fortunate Queen Rose was nearby.”

That last line came from a woman too old to care about being subtle.

Rose liked her immediately.

Seraphine’s smile tightened.

Angel stepped beside Rose now, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. His voice lowered so only she could hear. “You enjoyed that.”

Rose looked ahead, face serene. “Deeply.”

“She tried the garden trick too?”

“Yes.”

“Poison?”

“Aphrodisiac on flowers. It didn’t work. And will never work.”

Angel’s jaw hardened.

Rose added softly, “Weak.”

“She insulted you?”

“Indirectly.”

“That means yes.”

Rose glanced at him. “You were busy being harassed by pastries and desperate poetry.”

“One woman implied she could comfort me.”

Rose blinked once. Then smiled. “She has courage.”

“She has poor survival instinct. Her head might end up hanging on the city gate.”

Rose turned her gaze back to Seraphine, who was now speaking to a duchess as if she had not just fallen into her own trap.

“She’s escalating,” Rose murmured. “Testing both of us.”

Angel answered with a smirk.

Rose’s fingers brushed lightly against his sleeve. “Are you alright?”

Angel’s eyes softened by one invisible degree. “Yes.”

Rose did not fully believe him, but she accepted it for now.

Around them, the afternoon tea resumed, louder than before. Too loud. People overcompensating. Cups clinking. Laughter swelling. Musicians playing a brighter tune as if sound alone could bury awkwardness beneath melody.

But no one forgot.

Not the noblewomen who had watched their queen fall into her own little performance and receive nothing but empty air from Angel.

She stood beneath the flowering tree with her fan open, her posture perfect, her smile polished back into place. Anyone glancing at her would see a queen amused by a brief accident. Graceful. Untouched. A woman too elegant to be bothered by something so minor.

But behind her eyes, her thoughts moved like blades beneath black water.

So tricks would not work.

Not the simple ones.

Not separation. Not social pressure. Not pretty girls circling Angel like butterflies around a flame. Not men offering Rose poisoned flowers with smiling mouths and nervous hands. Not public embarrassment masked as a delicate stumble.

Angel and Rose had not only seen through it.

They had made people eat their own traps.

Openly.

And somehow, irritatingly, with perfect justification.

That was the worst part.

Most royals could not do that. Kings and princes were supposed to endure. Smile. Pretend. Let offenses dissolve into future retaliation. A ruler who slapped every hand reaching into his pocket looked crude. Petty. Dangerous.

But Angel?

He could step aside from a falling queen and make it look like battle instinct.

Rose could pick that same queen up and turn insult into etiquette.

They didn’t need subtlety because their histories gave them cover.

Angelus Raizel Moonfall had not been raised in comfort. He had been a prince of Asteria first. Exiled. Discarded. Hunted. Some rumors even claimed the late Prince Ilex of Asteria had killed him once before Angel later rose, usurped the Euphorion throne, and turned himself into a king no one could afford to ignore.

A man like that did not catch falling bodies.

He checked for knives.

Rose was no softer.

A princess, yes. Born with grace, taught manners, dressed in silk, but raised in a kingdom where instability was not an event but a season. Rebellions. Poisoned loyalties. Broken engagements. Her parents dead too young. The Heart family forced to heal wounds while also learning how to make wounds if necessary.

Rose had grown up watching smiles become assassination attempts.

So once she became queen, she did not play nice with tricks.

She dissected them.

Publicly, when deserved.