"This is to be delivered to the imperial palace without delay," Bragaton instructed, his tone imperious. "Ensure it reaches the hands of someone in authority."

The courier bowed deeply, taking the sealed letter with reverence. "At once, my lord," he replied before departing swiftly.

As the door closed, Bragaton leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together with satisfaction. His mind raced with the possibilities this gambit could bring. If the imperial family accepted his offer, it would solidify his position as an indispensable ally to the throne. If they did not, well, the woman who bore such an uncanny resemblance to the royals would still serve as an intriguing tool for manipulation.

"She doesn't even know her worth," Bragaton murmured to himself, his gaze drifting toward the window where the sprawling town lay beneath him. "But she will. Soon enough."

The wheels of his scheme were in motion, and now it was only a matter of time before the imperial court responded.

______

With the letter dispatched to the imperial palace, Lord Bragaton wasted no time preparing for Layla's arrival. In his study, he meticulously outlined his plans, directing his servants and guards with the precision of a seasoned tactician. Every detail of the dinner was designed to impress and unsettle Layla, subtly conveying his authority while testing her composure.

One of his guards approached as he reviewed the seating arrangements. The man's hesitant demeanor betrayed his unease.

"My lord," the guard began, bowing deeply, "the men you sent to tail the woman—Layla—reported back. They... they lost her. She disappeared before they could even get close."

Bragaton smirked, waving a hand dismissively. "As expected. Did you truly think someone like her would be so easily followed? No matter. Her reaction alone is information enough."

"But, my lord—" the guard started, but Bragaton cut him off with a raised finger.

"No need for concern. The dinner will proceed as planned. She will come, and that is all that matters." His tone carried an air of finality, leaving no room for argument.

The guard nodded and quickly left, leaving Bragaton to his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, as he considered his next move.

By evening, the grand dining hall was prepared to perfection. Lavish chandeliers cast warm light over a long table adorned with fine china, gilded cutlery, and centerpieces of fresh roses. Servants moved like ghosts, ensuring every detail was immaculate. Bragaton himself stood at the entrance, flanked by his most trusted guards, awaiting Layla and her companions.

When the trio arrived, their entrance was understated but commanding. Layla walked with quiet confidence, her eyes sharp and observant, taking in every detail of her surroundings. Mary Ann and Raziel flanked her, their gazes equally alert. It was clear to Bragaton that this was no ordinary group of travelers.

"Welcome, Lady Layla," Bragaton greeted her with a practiced smile, his voice smooth and cordial. "It is an honor to host you and your companions tonight."

Layla inclined her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Thank you for the invitation, Lord Bragaton. It would have been impolite to decline."

Her tone was polite but carried an edge that Bragaton couldn't ignore. He gestured toward the table. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served shortly."

The trio took their seats, each one careful not to turn their backs fully to the guards stationed at the edges of the room. As the servants began bringing out the courses, Layla's sharp senses immediately picked up on something amiss. The first dish, a delicate soup, had a faint but unmistakable smell that set off her internal alarms.

She glanced at Mary Ann and Raziel, both of whom seemed to notice it as well. Mary's lips pressed into a thin line, and Raziel's gaze flicked to Layla, silently asking for permission to act. Layla, however, gave a subtle shake of her head.

When the main course arrived—an elaborate platter of roasted game and rich sauces—Layla's suspicions were confirmed. There was something unnatural about the way the food smelled, an undertone of magic that spoke of tampering.

Still, she maintained her composure, smiling politely at Bragaton as he raised his glass for a toast.

"To unexpected meetings," he said, his eyes glinting with thinly veiled curiosity.

Layla raised her own glass, her movements calm and deliberate. "To the hospitality of our gracious host."

The two clinked their glasses, their gazes locking for a moment that felt heavier than the occasion warranted. Bragaton's smile widened, but Layla saw the calculation behind it.

As the meal progressed, Mary Ann leaned closer to Layla under the pretense of reaching for a bread roll. "The food is tainted," she whispered so softly that only Layla could hear. "Shall I—"

"No," Layla interrupted, her voice equally low. "Do nothing. We can't afford to make a scene here. Let him think we haven't noticed."

Raziel's jaw tightened, but he remained silent, trusting Layla's judgment. Bragaton, oblivious to the quiet exchange, continued to make polite conversation, steering the topics toward innocuous subjects. But Layla knew better than to let her guard down.

Each bite she pretended to take was a calculated move, each sip of wine a measured deception. She needed Bragaton to believe that he had the upper hand, at least for now.

By the end of the meal, Bragaton seemed pleased, but Layla couldn't shake the feeling that the night's true purpose had yet to reveal itself. As they rose to leave the table, Bragaton's parting words were laced with a subtle challenge.

"I hope you found the meal to your liking, Lady Layla," he said, his tone smooth as silk.

Layla met his gaze head-on, a faint smile playing on her lips. "It was... enlightening."

With that, she and her companions left the dining hall, leaving Bragaton to wonder just how much she had discerned.

It would take some time before the food would take effect and Lord Bragaton would be able to conduct his plan. He just needed to wait a bit now.