Chapter 356: Honour Turned Into Insult
Theresa lingered near the edge of the practice room, her brown eyes calculating, lips curved in a faint, almost imperceptible smile. The bustle of the ball preparations outside was distant. Here, it was quiet, except for the soothing tunes Riven was playing. He was practising quite hard.His black wolf ears twitched nervously, focused on the delicate strings beneath his fingers, unaware that he was about to become a pawn in a plan far larger than he could imagine.
Theresa stepped forward, moving with the poise of a Queen yet carrying the aura of someone who belonged anywhere she pleased. In her hands was a bundle of parchment—sheet music neatly tied with a silver ribbon. She laid it gently on the music stand, as if placing a gift before a child.
"I thought you might like to play this tonight," she said, her voice soft, almost hesitant, masking the edge beneath. Riven looked up, green eyes meeting her gaze. "It's a piece dedicated to the first Queen… And the Queens that came after. It celebrates the history of this Kingdom. I thought you'd want to honour them."
Riven's ears perked up. The King was quite fond of the history of the kingdom. He was proud of its rich culture and heritage. He always talked about the achievements of those who came before and how they made this kingdom what it is today.
"Of course," he murmured, reaching for the sheet music. The wolf's ears flicked as he flipped through the notes, eyes scanning the intricate harmonies. He was touched that someone had thought of him, to entrust him with a song of such significance. "It's… Beautiful," he said softly.
The King would love it if he played this, wouldn't he?
Theresa, meanwhile, was already at work on her true task. Hidden behind the music stand was a thin, leather-bound book—one of Riven's own annotations, filled with careful notes and the distinctive loops of his handwriting. She moved quickly, hiding it under her robes.
Later, this would serve her purpose perfectly: a letter forged in his hand, meant to appear as though he had betrayed the Kingdom itself.
Riven, unaware of the theft, leaned forward to study the sheet music more closely. Theresa crouched slightly, her face near his shoulder. "You're very talented," she whispered, voice gentle, "and… Clever. The King is lucky to have you playing for him tonight."
Riven flushed at the compliment, ears flattening slightly as his heart thumped in his chest. "Thank you… That means a lot," he said, strumming a few tentative chords. The sound was delicate, clear, resonant, the music filling the small room with a warmth that Theresa had no intention of sharing with anyone but herself.
She straightened, placing the empty hand on the edge of the stand, just enough to brush lightly against him. "I trust you'll make it perfect," she said. Her eyes glinted with a subtle, sharp ambition. "The Kingdom deserves nothing less."
Riven nodded, still absorbed in the music. The last thing he saw was Theresa's smile, serene yet unreadable, masking the quiet triumph in her mind. Outside the room, the ballroom glittered, unaware of the storm of intrigue that had just begun.
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The grand ballroom shimmered under crystal chandeliers, golden light scattering across the polished marble floors. It was filled with nobles and diplomats, they were in the traditional attire of the kingdom to show respect.
The Kingdom of Lions had never hosted a ball quite like this, a mixture of diplomacy and spectacle. It was meant to resolve the stalemate with the Black Panther clan, yet the tension thrummed beneath the surface like a tightly wound string, like that of a lyre.
The King stood at the head of the room, his amber eyes scanning the crowd. His long blond hair was braided, every strand reflecting the light like threads of spun gold. He maintained a regal composure, though the frustration he felt was undeniable. His gaze kept flicking toward Riven.
With a lyre in hand, wolf ears twitching with every whisper and movement. Riven's green eyes darted between the King and the attending dignitaries, feeling the weight of the unspoken scrutiny.
Rumours spread, and people had suspected that the King had someone 'special' kept at the palace.
Theresa hovered near the edge of the crowd, her brown eyes scanning the room with calculated interest. Blond hair cascading over her shoulders, she wore the elegance of a Queen, though she was newly crowned and held no true sway over the King. Her lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.
She had already set her plan in motion: a forged letter, supposedly written by Riven, detailing secrets of the kingdom meant to be leaked to Sahira. The letter had already made its way into the hands of the Black Panther clan's envoy, and the seeds of discord were planted.
Sahira herself was already making waves. Dark skin glowing under the chandelier light, black hair perfectly styled with bangs, amber eyes sharp and calculating, she approached the King with a polite but pointed smile. "Your Majesty," she began, "we respect your leadership. Truly, but where we come from, we honour tradition. Our people have always honoured the wisdom of the Queens, and it seems your first male reign is… A bold deviation."
The King's jaw tightened, his amber eyes narrowing. Standing nearby with his lyre, Riven had been practising the song Theresa requested—a song praising the first Queen, meant as a display of historical reverence.
He had thought it innocent, even honourable. Yet now, as Sahira spoke, weaving in the seed of doubt and humiliation, it turned from being a praise to an insult.
Songs praising the past and the past queens, while Sahira mocked and undermined his position.
"For a diplomat, you really don't hold your tongue." The King scowled.
Sahira shrugged, "I don't have to anymore, for I have turned the tables. I know a lot about your secrets. I know what you are after, and the only way you will get them is if you agree to our terms." She did not bother hiding it, she openly threatened him.