CHAPTER 88: SOMETHING ELSE IN HIS EYES

"You were away for a few days. Went on a little trip?" I asked Raye during breakfast, stabbing a piece of bread with my fork.

It had been two weeks since my training with Ares began, and though my body still ached in ways I hadn’t thought possible, I couldn’t deny the change.

My endurance had doubled—I could run laps around the training grounds and still breathe steadily after the first few turns, instead of collapsing in a wheezing heap.

My arms no longer shook after a dozen push-ups, and the bruises from my clumsy falls were fewer now. Balance had been the hardest lesson, but I’d finally stopped tripping over my own feet as often.

In fact, I’d only landed flat on my face once this week, which felt like a small miracle compared to my disastrous beginnings. Even Leika seemed sharper, her power flickering through my mind with more strength than before.

Raye giggled as she plucked a green grape from the bowl and tossed it into her mouth.

"Just went on a spying mission," she said lightly between chews, her tone as casual as if she’d spent the last few days shopping. "But I’m back now to make preparations for the Moon Festival. These men are far too busy, and apparently far too incapable of planning anything remotely civilized. So I’ll handle it with a few council members."

Her grin was wicked, her eyes shining with amusement as she leaned back in her chair, clearly savoring the jab.

Around her, the men kept eating, though I noticed the flicker of Ares’s smirk forming like a storm on the horizon, ready to argue.

"Hey," Ares interrupted, pointing his fork at her, "it’s not because I’m incapable. I just find that kind of work too boring for my liking."

"Too boring?" Raye arched a brow. "Please. You spend half your time trying to impress girls with that smug grin of yours. If anything’s boring, it’s watching you fail at subtlety."

Ares leaned back in his chair with mock offense. "Fail? I’ll have you know plenty of women find me irresistible."

Diaval, seated beside him, let out a quiet snort. "They find you so persistent so they’ll just pretend they are impressed. They respect you as a Beta, after all. There’s a difference."

That earned a grin from me, and even Rion, at the head of the table, let the corner of his mouth twitch.

"You talk as if you understand women, Diaval. You can’t even keep one woman beside you. Man, please don’t be too envious of me."

"Oh, shut up, both of you." Raye waved a hand as if swatting flies, then turned her attention to me instead. "How’s your training?"

"She’s improving," Ares said before I could answer, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "She doesn’t whine anymore."

My fork froze halfway to my mouth.

Heat crept into my cheeks, and I flicked my gaze toward Rion. He was smirking—of course he was. Even if he hadn’t been present during the grueling sessions, Ares must have given him every detail. The thought of them sharing a laugh about my clumsy beginnings made my embarrassment burn hotter.

Well, at least you are better now, Leika said.

I smiled internally. Yes I was better, and even if Ares’s training tormented me, I considered him a good teacher nonetheless. I was still thankful.

"When will she be ready for shifting practices?" Diaval asked.

I swallowed the piece of bread and turned to him with mock suspicion. "Oh? Are you so excited to torture me, Diaval?"

His lips curved almost imperceptibly, though the rest of his face remained stoic. "I’m a better teacher, trust me," he said simply.

"Better?" Ares barked a laugh, the sound rumbling across the breakfast table. "You are really such a competitive asshole. Don’t listen to him, Vivien. He’s stricter than me, I tell you."

Now I didn’t know if I should be thankful for the little tip.

Before Diaval could retort, Raye clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So! I’ve decided that for this year, the opening event will be a masquerade street party!"

"Masquerade?" Ares groaned, dragging the word out as though it were the most painful suggestion he had ever heard. "Why would you want it to be masquerade-themed? I don’t want my handsome face hidden."

Across from him, Diaval barely moved. His expression was as unreadable as ever, only the faintest flicker of his eyes betraying that he had even heard. It wasn’t disapproval, but it wasn’t support either—simply indifference.

Rion remained silent, cutting neatly into his food, as if the whole discussion was beneath his notice.

Raye leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and raised her chin in defiance.

"Because it’s been too long since we’ve had one. And no buts!" She wagged a finger at Ares. "I’m in charge of planning this festival, which means I get to decide the theme. You don’t get to question me."

Ares threw his head back with an exaggerated groan but ended up grinning anyway. "Fine, whatever. With or without a mask, I’m sure pretty girls will be swooning over me."

His confidence was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help it—I smiled, wide and unrestrained.

The warmth of it surprised me, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. I even almost laughed out loud at his antics, but the sound caught in my throat when I felt Rion’s eyes on me.

He was staring, his fork paused midway to his plate. His expression wasn’t mocking, nor did it carry the quiet amusement he often wore.

No, there was something else in his eyes...

It was almost as if he had never seen me smile like that before. As though the sight was foreign to him.

The realization made my face burn. I tore my gaze away, suddenly too aware of how foolishly wide my smile had been. My hands fumbled for my cup, lifting it to my lips just to have something to do.