Kapitel 14: a lion’s hunger.

Damian was three drinks down, and unfortunately, still sober enough to hear Duke Lombrass talking.

Perhaps "talking" was a stretch.

Duke Andrew of Lombrass was midway through his second lecture of the night, and the clock had yet to strike ten. The sixty-year-old man commanded an intimidating presence despite his age, his booming voice loud enough to be heard right across the noise of the ballroom and the band playing gentle, uplifting music.

"…and that's why the proud lineage of Lombrass must endure into the future," the Duke crowed, one giant hand grasping a thin-stemmed champagne flute.

A small group of minor nobles had gathered around him to listen, their expressions ranging the full extremes between 'politely bored' and 'sycophantic.' In truth, the Duke was rather popular among the lesser nobles, many of whom thought his views were more 'traditional' compared to the current reign.

Damian stood on the other side of the ballroom, having already endured the first lecture from close-range, and deciding upon a tactical retreat for the second.

"I'm s-sorry about my father…he g-gets like this when he's been…drinking."

The voice was so meek and mousey that Damian half-thought he'd imagined it; but the flutter of thick, caramel-brown locks by his shoulder was too convincing for a hallucination.

A young woman stood by his shoulder, her eyes so deeply green that they resembled emeralds. She wore a matching green dress, the neckline plunging low into her substantial breasts, where freckles crossed her pale skin.

"Lady Astrid, I'm pleased you could make it."

Astrid's cheeks flushed under the weight of Damian's gaze. She made an adorable squeak and quickly took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, skulling half the contents in a single gulp.

Damian raised an eyebrow.

"Are you old enough to drink?"

"I—I turned…eighteen last autumn…and y-you know that! B-besides… I think anyone would need a d-drink with my father around."

"You said it, not me. Though I think I might need something stronger than this if he goes for round three."

Astrid smiled, dimples forming in her cheeks.

This meek, stammering young woman was Damian's second cousin, Lady Astrid of Lombrass, daughter and second-born to the Duke. While her father continued waxing lyrical about his family's importance in Sidralis, Astrid sidled closer to Damian as the pair stood in a corner of the ballroom.

"Did you like the books I sent for your birthday?"

"Oh Y-yes, I r-really appreciated…them. I—I already finished them all! The Starting Life in Another World book was s-so interesting! S-sometimes I wish I could b-be taken away to another world…"

Damian smiled. True to form, Astrid became a veritable fountain of words and energy whenever the subject of books were broached. Honestly, Damian wasn't much for reading fiction—since he'd assumed control of more government functions, most of what he read were dry briefing documents.

Damian opened his mouth to reply—

"—There you are! I didn't say you could run away, did I now?"

A tall man appeared beside Astrid, his hawkish eyes narrowed. Instantly, he had one hand seized around her upper arm, fingers digging into her pale flesh with more force than seemed necessary. Astrid winced, but she said nothing. She cast her gaze down, her entire presence seeming to shrink in size.

"S-sorry b-brother, I was m-merely t-talking to P-Prince Damian…"

"Need you be so rough with my guests, Marquis? I'd rather end the night without incident, thank you very much."

Damian's tone was light but firm—the command of a prince to a lesser noble.

Marquis Nicholas Lombrass had his father's height and build, with a crooked nose and scars running down the side of his cheek—wounds that he claimed he'd earned from fighting in the Duchy's private army, the Oakshields. Damian had always harbored suspicions about Nicholas' injuries—but never enough to bother involving Leon.

The marquis released the vice-like grip on his younger sister's arm. His upper lip curled into a sneer, his dark eyes taking on a sinister glean.

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Your Highness. We wouldn't want to damage such beautiful goods, would we?"

He ran one hand down his sister's cheek, curling a brunette lock around a finger.

Astrid trembled, clutching one hand to her arm. Her face had drained of all color, and her eyes had gone hollow and glassy, as though she was somewhere far away from the ballroom.

"S-sometimes I wish I could b-be taken away to another world…"

Bile rose in the back of Damian's throat. The noise of the party retreated, replaced by the heavy beating of his own pulse, thundering in his ears.

Is it possible? No…it's very possible. But finding proof is altogether a different matter.

"I had rather hoped the rumors about the Lombrass's heir were simply that."

Damian's words slipped out between his clenched teeth.

"Oh? Please enlighten me, Your Highness. What, pray tell, do the fine nobles of Rosweiss say about the Marquis of Lombrass?"

"That you're an honorable man who would never raise a hand against his sister."

"Raise a hand against my own blood? I'm wounded! Truly, do you see even the smallest blemish upon my fair sister's beautiful skin?"

Nicholas put a hand to his mouth in a mockery of surprise.

Astrid simply stood there, clutching herself tightly, as she had the entire time. It seemed as though she was doing everything else but breathing, and even that was like a tiny creature attempting to avoid a predator's gaze.

It was true that Astrid was the picture of beauty, and though she lacked confidence, she still radiated a certain charm that Damian found appealing. He saw nothing untoward on her exposed forearms, nor her cheeks or throat; her dress was long, so he could not speak for her legs, but she seemed visibly unharmed.

Seeing that he'd backed Damian into a corner, Nicholas smiled, his scarred check crumpling.

"Well, I thought as much. My sister is the pride of the Lombrass family. As a brother, I cannot be more proud of having such a beautiful woman by my side. Tell me, Your Highness, why have you refused my father's requests? Do you deny my sister's hand in marriage for some reason? Is there something you find distasteful about my beloved sister?"

For the briefest moment, Astrid looked up, her eyes meeting Damian's. In that fraction of a second, he saw tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill—but then she ducked her head once more, curled hair covering her face.

Damian cleared his throat.

"As you are no doubt aware, I have rejected all marriage proposals. Until such a time as my father's condition improves, or—Angel forbid—the Crown requires my ascension, I have not entertained thoughts of a bride."

"No, no, of course not. We wouldn't want the prince to trouble himself now, would we? No doubt you're oh so very busy. On that note, I think we've taken enough of the good prince's time now, don't you think, Astrid?"

When Nicholas said her name, Astrid snapped her head up, her eyes holding the same mixture of fear and obedience as a whipped mutt. When Nicholas extended his hand towards her, Damian couldn't mistake the tremors running through her fingers and up her arms.

She met Damian's eyes again, her expression sorrowful.

"E-enjoy the festivities…Your Highness…"

Nicholas pulled his sister's hand, almost tripping her over. She stumbled, forced to hold onto his arm to steady herself. He turned away, then, after a brief pause, looked back at Damian.

"Please, convey the well-wishes of the Lombrass family to your father. Say, don't you think he's looking awfully pale tonight?"

"Pale…?"

Damian turned, his jaw opening in surprise as he saw an unexpected guest entering the ballroom. The doorman scrambled at the surprise, but snapped to salute soon enough, and bellowed loud enough to be heard over the general chatter and the band's music:

"Announcing His Royal Highness of Sidralis, King Xavier V!"

The King had arrived.

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