Page 125 of Unravelled
Mira exhaled slowly, feigning a moment’s consideration, though her mind raced. He would see through another lie. That much was clear. She chose her words carefully.
Her voice was low, smooth and quiet enough that just he could hear her.“You’ve made quite an entrance, Your Majesty.”
His head tilted slightly, interest flickering behind his eyes. Mira let her gaze drift deliberately down, to the midnight-black armor still gleaming under the torchlight, to the soldiers lining the walls, to the way he had entered this hall as a conqueror, not a guest.
She met his gaze once more and smiled. “But I can’t help but wonder… have you come as an ally or to conquer?"
The amusement in his expression did not fade. If anything, it sharpened. He had expected flattery. He had expected coyness. For a long, suffocating moment, he simply looked at her. Then, the King laughed. A deep, full sound, unexpected and unnerving as it echoed through the vast chamber. Mira did not flinch. She simply smiled wider.
“Good,” the King rumbled, his voice edged with something almost approving. A shift in the room. The nobles exchanged nervous glances, uncertain whether that had been a compliment or a threat.
The King turned and returned to his throne, finally breaking his stare. “Let the presentations continue.”
Just like that, the moment was over. But as Mira stepped back to her place, she felt the weight of his attention linger. And across the room, Asric’s smirk had deepened.
38
The grand hall buzzed with conversation, silverware clinking against fine porcelain, wine flowing freely into goblets of gold and crystal. But Mira hardly heard any of it. She ate in silence, her posture composed, her gaze flickering between the plates before her and the subtle movements of the court. The King of Kharador sat at the head of the hall, speaking in low tones to those bold enough to address him. His presence, even at a distance, swallowed the room whole. Mira forced herself to eat. Every bite tasted like dust.
She was aware of the of Tharion’s stare since she had rejoined him. When the food was served, He simply picked up his utensils and began eating, jaw tight, every movement stiff and controlled. Mira chewed slowly, watching him from the corner of her eye. Beneath that carefully constructed mask, he was barely holding himself together. She swallowed the next bite, setting down her fork before looking directly at him.
Tharion did not look at her. "What were you thinking?" His voice was quiet but sharp. "Do you know what you just did?"
Mira tooksip from her glass, unbothered. “Yes"
Tharion’s grip tightened around his fork. "You provoked a warlord."
Mira exhaled slowly, setting her goblet back down. "I held my own."
Tharion finally turned to face her, his eyes flashing with barely restrained emotion. "You made yourself a piece on his board, Mira. And I don’t think you realize just how dangerous that is."
Mira sighed. “I do realise.”
Tharion shook his head, scoffing softly. His voice dropped lower, barely more than a whisper. “Why would you bait him like that?”
Mira stared at Tharion, "Because I didn't have a choice."
Tharion stiffened. A beat of silence. She set the glass down, her fingers trailing lightly over the stem before she leaned in just enough that their conversation remained private.
"Asric knows who has been in my room." Her voice was smooth, but the weight beneath it was heavy.
Her gaze flicking toward Asric, who sat at a distance, engaged in idle conversation, or pretending to be. Mira turned back to Tharion.
He swallowed, before he forced himself to pick up his utensils again."Why is it always you paying the price?"
Mira exhaled as she speared a piece of food onto her fork, bringing it to her lips with deliberate ease, as if they weren’t discussing treachery in hushed tones over a diplomatic feast. She chewed slowly, unhurried. "I need to collect something from the King... carefully..." She set down her fork, fingers resting lightly against the polished wood of the table. "Like I collected the letter from Asric."
Tharion’s fingers tightened on his knife. “Mira, ”
Before Tharion could say another word, Ren’s voice rang through the hall. "Honored guests, your attention, please."
The room stilled. Mira turned her head as the court’s announcer stepped forward, his voice carrying over the hum of quiet conversations, cutting through the tension that had settled thick in the air.
"As is tradition in Kharador, our esteemed guest, His Majesty, will now select a partner for the opening dance." Ren announced.
A murmur swept through the gathered nobles, anticipation, anxiety, calculated excitement. Mira’s fingers curled subtly against the table. Tharion’s knife clinked against his plate as he set it down a little too hard, his knuckles still white with tension.
Across the hall, Ren stood unnervingly still, his jaw set in rigid control.The King of Kharador leaned back in his seat, languid, unrushed. Amused. His gaze swept across the room, lingering on the expectant faces of the court, His eyes found Mira. A slow, knowing look. A challenge left unspoken. She held his gaze, refusing to shift, refusing to acknowledge the pulse of unease curling in her stomach. Then, just as tension gripped the room too tightly, he exhaled.
