Page 108 of Haunted Crowns
The first clash came silent, slow. Sensual. Their blades met with deliberate grace, steel sliding in a breathless tease. They circled like hunters testing fate. The nobles leaned forward, eyes wide with awe they could not name.
“By the gods…” someone whispered.
“They move like shadows,” another murmured.
Then Stephan struck, not with aggression, but with grace. His blade danced like a caress disguised as combat.
Eris spun, her dagger grazing just past his ribs, but he caught her wrist and pulled her into him. She gasped as her back met his chest, heat bleeding through silk.
The scent of him wrapped around her, scattering her pulse. She paused, breath shallow, then twisted free. Their arms brushed as she turned to face him again. A smile tugged at his lips.
Come, love. Show me who you are.
“This is no mere dance,” someone breathed.
“It is foreplay in armor,” a noblewoman whispered, half-laughing. “Gods help the girl if he is as good with his hands as he is with that blade.”
Another step. Another clash. Their eyes locked. This time, neither moved. They stood breathless and balanced. Neither winning. Neither yielding. Flames painted their skin in gold and shadow.
Then he claimed the moment.
His fingers curled around her wrist, sliding down until they laced with hers. With a flick of his thumb, he stole her dagger. Before she could protest, Stephan pivoted in a blur and threw the blade. It spun through the air and struck the wooden table with a clean, resounding thunk.
A ripple of awe followed. A goblet dropped. Someone gasped.
"Gods…" a noble whispered.
Then his own dagger followed. Two blades, side by side, mirroring each other. Bound in steel, as they were in fate. Stephan turned to her, breath ragged, pupils wide and consuming.
Before she could react, his hands found her again. One pressed against the small of her back, the other tilted her chin until theireyes met. The music swelled, primal and hypnotic. Eris felt the shift.
"Stephan," she whispered, her pulse shattering beneath his touch.
He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "I am done pretending." His breath faltered, thick with need.
Eris inhaled sharply, her body trembling from the way his need ignited her own.
“Let them see,” he whispered. “Not just what we are, but what we will become.” Then he moved.
One arm locked around her waist while the other drew her thigh high against his hip. Her hand rose to his face, cupping his jaw with a grip that was both tender and possessive. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, hungry. Each touch was a claim that dared the court to look away.
Some didn’t. Some couldn’t.
The nobles stared, entranced and scandalized. A jeweled fan fluttered furiously.
"Gods…" someone gasped. "That is not a dance. That is seduction made sacred."
Lady Elara clutched Yori’s arm as if scandal alone might bring her down. “Do something!” she hissed.
Yori’s expression sharpened to match hers. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, just loud enough. “He will answer for this—rest assured, my dear.”
He patted her hand with solemn care, but the glint in his eye betrayed him, a flicker of pride for the boy defying the throne, veiled beneath practiced outrage.
Lord Hadrian leaned back, fingers steepled. "A public declaration," he murmured.
Raphael stiffened, nostrils flaring. His son had done the unthinkable. This could not go unanswered.
Across the distance, Stephan stood steady. No more hiding. No more pretending she was anything less than the force that had undone him. He had seen the sneers, endured the scorn aimed at her. No more. Let them look. Let them understand. She was his, and by the crown he would one day wear, they would all bow.
