Lara’s right eyebrow lifted, a subtle arc of skepticism. "Isn’t the one hosting tonight’s banquet his wife?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. The customs of ancient royalty were no mystery to her—concubines were an accepted, if archaic, part of royal households. Still, she couldn’t fathom that a prince would be so shameless as to favor another woman in the presence of his wife openly.
Later, Lara realized how wrong she was.
"Concubine," Alaric said flatly.
"What?" Lara’s brow furrowed in bewilderment, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
"The one hosting the banquet tonight is not his wife, but his concubine," Alaric clarified, each word deliberate.
Lara glanced at Alaric, and he felt uncomfortable under her gaze.
"Isn’t she still his wife? I understand that the concubine’s status is low," Lara paused as if weighing her next words, "Is she not still bound to him as his wife?"
Alaric’s gaze flickered. Does she not understand the distinction between a wife and a concubine? Perhaps she didn’t. After all, during her coming of age, she had lived her life in quiet seclusion, shielded from courtly politics. Maybe it was her upbringing—or maybe it was because General Odin, her father, had only ever loved and married one woman: her mother.
Prince Alaric remained silent. What would she think if she learned that I have two concubines? Not that I slept with them. Will she hate me?
"You’re not wrong," he said at last, choosing his words with care. "But if Prince Reuben wished to take more concubines, nothing in the law would prevent him."
Lara’s lips pressed into a thin line. Damn patriarchal society, she thought bitterly.
While Prince Alaric was busy battling with his thoughts, Lara had lapsed into silence. She was pondering the words Alaric had uttered earlier.
She noticed it too. Prince Reuben has looked at her the way a man would look at a woman. Though it wasn’t as leering as the way that dirty old man Donald looked at her, there had been something—undeniably male, unmistakably desirous—in his gaze. It made her skin crawl.
She was grateful her brothers were attending tonight. At the very least, she could use them as shields.
As their carriage neared the estate, Lara leaned forward slightly, peering through the small window. A handful of carriages were already parked at the entrance of the Baron’s manor.
"Has the party already started?" she asked.
Alaric turned to her, momentarily confused. "’Party’? What party?"
"I meant the banquet," she clarified. "Has it started already?"
"Absolutely not," Alaric said resolutely. "The invitation clearly stated that the banquet would commence at 5:30 PM. It seems these early arrivals are trying to curry favor with Reuben, likely hoping to gain some advantage or benefit from their flattery."
Just then, the carriage came to a halt. Alaric stepped out smoothly, but before he could turn to assist Lara, a familiar voice called out to him—Amielle, sweet and smiling. He gave her a polite nod in response, but inwardly cursed the momentary distraction.
Just a minute’s distraction, which he regretted, because when he turned back to assist Lara from getting off the carriage, three strong hands were already extended toward the carriage, eager to help her down.
Alaric pursed his lips, but he tried to maintain civility as he spoke in a controlled tone, "Lara is my partner, so let me escort her."
The brothers, sensing the tension, slowly withdrew their hands.
Lara waved them off anyway. "I’m not that delicate. I can climb out of a carriage without help," she said, brushing past their chivalry.
But Alaric moved in front of her, blocking her path. "Allow me," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument.
Lara sighed heavily as she held on to Prince Alaric’s hands and stepped out of the carriage, paying attention to her skirt so she did not step on the hem.
When she stepped inside the banquet hall, Lara could feel the intense gazes on her. From the men, she felt that she was being undressed. From the older women, she felt judgmental gazes, while from the younger ones, she felt envy and hate.
And who would not dare to look when a beautiful, tall woman, with hair like glowing copper, was being escorted by the first prince of Northem, followed by three men who looked exceptional in their cloaks.
Prince Reuben was smiling as he approached them in large, confident strides.
"Brother, you’ve finally arrived," he said, his voice warm and welcoming as he directed his attention to Alaric. Yet, in that moment, his gaze drifted momentarily over Lara, lingering on her face before it settled on the shimmering topaz pendant resting gently against her chest. The jewel sparkled with an inviting glow, drawing his eyes to the place which he should not be looking.
Before Alaric could answer, Reuben had taken the liberty of kissing the back of her right hand. It lingered for a few seconds, and Lara could feel Reuben’s warm breath on her skin.
She felt a flutter of discomfort surge through her as she attempted to draw her hand away discreetly. The warmth of Prince Reuben’s grasp lingered on her skin. His keen perception caught the subtle shift, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips, rich with amusement. With a playful smile, he released her hand and gave her a wink.
"You look very lovely tonight, Miss Lara. Should I have known that such a beauty was hidden in this faraway place, I should have come earlier." He gave Lara a playful wink before shifting his gaze to the men behind her, whose faces were at varying degrees of turning dark.
The darkest of all was Alaric’s.
"Your Highness, please pardon my insolence. You are openly flirting with my sister, and Lady Amielle looks unhappy. You should know what a jealous woman could do." Percival, the most reckless and tactless among the brothers, spoke without hesitation.
Bener almost had a heart attack. How could Percival be too foolish to utter such words? He knew that Lara’s identity would be revealed sooner or later, but he preferred that it would be later rather than sooner.
"Who do you say she is?"