The royal dining hall shimmered with gold-leafed chandeliers and the delicate clinking of porcelain. The imperial family had already taken their seats, the air heavy with the scent of roasted pheasant and spiced wine. Conversation had dwindled into expectant silence the moment Lola stepped into the room.
"Lady Charlotte!" Kaelin's youthful voice broke the quiet as he beamed at her, waving her over. "Come sit with us."
Lola hesitated, offering a graceful curtsy. She moved to take an empty seat, but the moment her fingers brushed the back of the chair, the Empress Dowager's voice cut sharply through the room.
"I do not recall this table being open to the less privileged," Victoria said, her tone biting and cold. "Run along, little girl, before I lose my temper and take it out on you."
A stunned silence fell. Lola froze, her eyes briefly flicking toward the emperor. Xander glared at his mother, but she didn't acknowledge him. Her attention remained fixed, razor-sharp, on Lola.
"I assume you are not deaf?" the Duchess added, her voice soaked in disdain. "Leave. Now."
Even the Duke kept his gaze averted, making no attempt to intervene.
Lola swallowed her pride, her voice calm despite the sting. "Very well," she said softly, turning to leave.
But as she turned, she came face to face with the Grand Empress, regal in her silks, her hair coiled like a crown upon her head.
"Nonsense," the older woman said crisply. "Go and have your seat, child. You've always belonged at this table, no matter who finds that inconvenient."
She offered Lola a brief smile, then turned her gaze cool and challenging on Victoria.
Lola bowed with grace and gratitude before returning to her chair. The emperor immediately stood, pulling out a seat for his grandmother.
The Grand Empress arched a brow at him as she sat. "Are you truly a man, or simply one in uniform?" she asked dryly.
Xander's lips twitched, but he said nothing. The room stirred as royal servants rushed to serve the first course, tension clinging to the silver spoons like condensation.
Elsewhere in the palace, Lord Caspian entered his study, where a small fire danced in the hearth. Papers lay scattered on the desk, and in the midst of it all sat Sophia Patel, her fingers stained with ink and a mischievous light in her eyes.
"Were you waiting for me?" he asked, removing his gloves.
"Not at all," she replied breezily. "I was quite occupied, actually."
He moved behind her and peered curiously over her shoulder. "What has you so focused?"
"I'm preparing for my next game," she replied, not looking up.
Caspian frowned. "Game?"
A smirk curved her lips. "I started a chicken match at Garnet Hall. Lords place wagers on which rooster will win."
He blinked. "You mean… noblemen are betting on poultry?"
She finally looked up, eyes gleaming. "Precisely. Since these Lords don't know how to spend their coin wisely, I thought I might help them. It's practically a noble sport."
He laughed, genuine, warm. "You truly are something else, Sophia Patel."
She tilted her head playfully. "Would you like to come see for yourself?"
Caspian paused, an intrigued smile forming. "Are you offering me a wager, Miss Patel?"