Vaela finds herself nestled near a tall pillar draped in shimmering ivy, a glass of sparkling nectar in hand. The music floats through the air like a whispered seduction, and the gentle laughter of elven nobles surrounds her. But her attention is solely on the man walking toward her, golden hair brushing his collar, regal suit tailored to perfection, steps confident and easy.
King Altherion.
"Enjoying the party, Lady Moonblood?" His voice is smooth, silken with the barest edge of amusement.
"Immensely," she purrs, one leg crossing over the other as she shifts her weight against the column. "Though it's missing something."
"Oh?" His brow lifts as he approaches, coming to a stop just within her scent. "Do enlighten me. I did design the guest list myself."
Vaela lets her eyes linger up and down his form, slow and appreciative. "Oh no, Your Majesty, you're absolutely part of what's right."
