Later that evening, the house hums with gentle music and clinking glasses as the team settles in. The villa glows with enchanted lanterns, casting warm amber over polished wood floors and vine-trimmed hallways.
Vaela leans over the curved balcony with Lilith and Thalos, sipping a golden wine made from starlight-brewed berries.
"I can't believe they're actually letting Virgil present here," Lilith mutters, swirling her glass.
"Of course they are," Thalos replies. "He's rich, established, and backed by the kind of corporations that practically built this kingdom's trade lines. They know him."
Thalos strolls in wearing diplomat-chic robes and holding a thick crystal envelope.
"Mail for our Queen," he says, handing it over.
Vaela breaks the seal and reads. Her face shifts from cautious curiosity to slow-spreading mischief.
"Well?" Lilith prods.
"It's an invitation."
"To?"
"The palace."
Lilith perks up. "The King?"
