The festival kept its rhythm, the central square pulsing with music, aromas, and voices. I was still seated on the designated throne, watching as every part of the defense worked perfectly—guards mixed among musicians, discreet patrols in the alleys, messengers disguised as street vendors. Everything was meticulously calculated so the people felt only joy, not fear.

  It was the first time I saw one of my plans executed in public, without panic, without screams—only smiles.

  César, inside my mind, couldn’t hide his satisfaction:

  — This is brilliant, boy. Without fear, the people are harder to break. You know how to keep an army cohesive without even wearing armor… impressive.

  I was about to reply when a sarcastic voice nearby cut through:

  — Well, well… — Darian, leaning on the arm of the throne beside me, stared with that irritating half-smile. — Turns out you do know how to sit and pretend to be important, Lukas.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  I drew a deep breath, ready to ignore him, but before I could speak, a female voice echoed loudly:

  — LUKINHAS!

  Selene, my sister with the always cold expression, suddenly wrapped me in such a warm hug that Darian actually stepped back, as if pushed by an invisible force.

  — It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, brat. — She gave a rare, genuine smile. — I really like your skin tone… I wish I had inherited it from Father too.

  That alone made me flustered, but she tilted her head and whispered something in my ear that made my face heat up instantly. I didn’t need to look to know she was enjoying herself.

  Morgana laughed inside my head:

  — It’s true, chocolatinho. You’re going to be a heartbreaker.

  César grumbled:

  — You are surrounded by traps, boy. This is a direct path to downfall. Listen to me: in situations like these, the stabs come when it’s too late to react. Come back to the light before it’s too late…

  — Oh, shut up, César… Morgana sighed, teasing. — All this just to protect your little vow of chastity?

  — Roman Seal of Chastity… activate! — César declared theatrically. — First internal barrier raised!

  Morgana burst out laughing:

  — Why all that? It’s not like they’re going to rip… heavy pieces off you two.

  — I am a shield! — César shot back, outraged. — And a shield is prepared for everything, you shameless fox!

  I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the music and forget the mental image she was painting. But judging by Selene’s amused expression, she didn’t need to hear a thing to imagine it.

  End of Chapter 8