CHAPTER 324: INVITATION V

SAGE

Did he think he could escape me?

The thought alone made me smile as I stepped out of the hall, my gown swishing softly around my legs.

King Adam, cool, collected, stiff as a rod—walking away as though he could distance himself from what was already tugging at him. Men like him always thought they could run from fire, when all they did was trail sparks behind them.

I held back a chuckle, finding the path where he had treaded upon just minutes ago.

Escape from my plans? Not at all. Dora would have avoided them, would have avoided talking with them, would have probably traveled somewhere else...

But I was Sage. I ran from no one, hid from no one; never giving up until the mission is complete.

The attention I had gathered during the dances in the hall a few seconds ago had been glorious, the music intoxicating, the stares worth every breath I took.

I had felt their eyes—hungry, disbelieving, scandalized. And I had reveled in it. For once, every gaze wasn’t on the brides in their silks or on the triplets themselves. It was on me.

I laughed under my breath, remembering the moment Leon’s hand had rested at my hip, the hush of awe that swept across the crowd. They had seen me, every last one of them. I was unforgettable now, and I wanted Adam to remember me most of all.

Amongst his brothers, he was the one I wanted most—the one I wanted dead the most.

Though contemplating on it at that moment, I decided to keep his death for the last. It would be a beautiful orgasmic experience.

The thought alone sent tendrils of excitement up my arms.

If I had stayed longer in the hall, I would have danced with Noah next. His curiosity had shone so clear in his eyes earlier, a spark of energy begging to be tested.

He wasn’t cold like Adam, nor sharp as Daniel, but there was a mystery in him that had tugged at me. I had almost indulged him.

But Isla had broken through my fun, as sly as ever. She had slipped past Timothy during our turn, glided close enough to cover our voices with a quick spell, and whispered in my ear. "Adam’s in the palace garden."

Oh, Isla.

I could have kissed her cheeks and hugged her to oblivion for that piece of information. She has been doing a good job so far.

Instead, I smiled at Timothy, apologized gracefully for leaving, for cutting our dance short, and walked out before anyone could suspect I had a destination.

Isla could handle the blame, could also handle a dance with Timothy. She was a princess, never mind, she was not regarded by her family.

Now here I was, and there he was.

Adam sat stiffly on the bench, staring at the sky like it would hand him answers. Bland. Controlled.

Beautiful, but bland.

In the moonlight, though, his features sharpened—the clean line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the weight in his eyes. He looked carved by the goddess herself.

Admiration stirred, but so did rage. Hot, biting, clawing rage. My younger self rose from memory, whispering of the time this same man had killed my spirit without a sword, had left me hollow, bleeding, broken. It burned through my veins now, made my blood sing with a dangerous cocktail of sour desire and fury.

When he noticed my presence finally, he barely showed any emotion.

"What are you doing here?" He asked evenly, like he couldn’t be bothered.

I smiled—slow, deliberate, knowing the aloofness was just a barricade. "Looking for you."

He only raised a brow.

I took that as acceptance.

I covered the distance between us leisurely, purposefully sitting on the bench with him, closer than was appropriate.

His gaze didn’t falter. But neither would I.

My lips curved, and when I spoke again, I made sure my voice rolled out husky. "I wanted to dance with you... you left."

We stared at each other. The contest stretched on—silent, electric, unyielding.

He broke first, turning his eyes away. Amusement bloomed in me, curling my lips upward.

"I’m not interested in a dance," he said at last, voice level, dismissive.

"Of course you’re not," I murmured, rising to my feet, mischief sparking through me. My fingers twitched, and magic curled from my palms like a ribbon, weaving into the night.

A melody swelled, beautiful and enthralling, crafted for lovers under the moon. It spilled into the garden, soft, sensual, irresistible.

I stretched my hand toward him, head tilted. "I didn’t take you as a coward, Your Grace."

His jaw ticked, eyes narrowing.

"Afraid of your bride?" I teased, laughter twinkling in my voice. "Or is it the fact that you can’t dance?"

Of course he could dance. Our last one still scorched my memory. The memory of his hands on my hips, the sway of his body, the way he had led me like I was the only woman in the room.

I wanted that again. No—I wanted to brand it deeper, to carve myself into his memory with a new mask, a new face he couldn’t forget. One that would make his life miserable in the long run.

For a heartbeat, I thought he would refuse. His lips pressed thin, his body taut, torn between disdain and curiosity. But then he stood, broad shoulders shifting under the moon, and his hand slid into mine.

"Cut your sassiness when in public," he said, out of nowhere, low warning edged into every word. "Or you’ll be disciplined."

A shiver chased through me, but I masked it with a grin. "For now," I whispered. "I’ll behave."

And the dance began.

During the provocative movement, I pressed my hips to his intentionally most times, savoring the way his solid body flinches at contact.

His eyes, flat and bland before, darkened—shadows creeping into their depths. He tried to hold his composure, but I saw it, the flicker of fire he tried so hard to bury.

"Be careful," he muttered under his breath, voice rougher than before, when I slipped my fingers into his hair.

I ignored him, however, daring more, letting my body curve closer. Our movements fell into rhythm—gentle yet charged, sensual yet intoxicating. My magic wove softly around us, not to control, not to enchant, but to amplify.

His scent enveloped me—woodsmoke, steel, and something darker, primal. It was the same as before, but stronger now, sharper, clawing into me. My blood raced, heat spiraling lower. His arms were strong around me, secure, protective, infuriatingly safe.

I ignored it all. I ignored the pounding of my heart, the ache that wanted to lean in.

No. That was gone. This was about revenge. About making him remember this, whether he wanted to or not.

Our breaths grew heavier, chests rising and falling too close. His composure cracked, and I glimpsed something raw flickering behind his eyes. My body responded despite my will—traitorous, electric.

Then I stopped the music.

Stepped away, slow, deliberate, lips curling into a smile that was all teeth and promise.

I winked at him next, tossed my hair back, and sashayed out of the garden without a backward glance.

I didn’t need to look. I knew he was watching. And I knew he would not forget.

Far enough from the garden, I burst into laughter, light and wild, ignoring the way my body still thrummed like a plucked string. My skin burned, my blood hummed, but my heart was sharp with triumph. A job well done.

I had rattled the stiff king, broken his calm, scratched his mask.

I tried reaching for my purse— for my phone—eager to call Isla, to crow about my little victory. My fingers remembered I was carrying none.

I cursed softly. Of course—I had left it in the hall. No matter. Isla would return it when she slipped free. She could take care of things.

I turned toward the exit path, choosing to head back to the fighters’ quarters, legs humming with restless energy. Sleep would tame it. Sleep, and maybe dreams sweeter than nightmares.

Halfway down the path, my resolve to walk faltered. I spotted Leon’s car parked near the edge.

A wicked grin spread across my lips. Why waste energy?

I strolled to the car, flicked my fingers, whispered a word, and the locks clicked open. Slipping inside, I found the key wasn’t available.

Albeit... I opened the box, yanked the wires, jammed them together, and the engine roared to life.

Tada boy.

Gasps rose from the few scattered outside, mutters spilling as I pressed the pedal and shot away from the hall. They were right to think that Leon wouldn’t let his date touch his adorable car, no matter how popular.

Some were already running back into the hall to call Leon. Let them.

At the quarters, I parked just outside the gate, slammed the door shut, and inhaled the silence. No one was outside. Perfect. Just how I liked it. Hopefully, it would be the same inside the compound.

My luck held up. It seemed the fighters not invited were nursing their egos back in their houses.

Good for them.

Inside my house finally, I didn’t waste any time. I sent off a message to the Queen with the magic bird, slipped off my clothes, and trudged into the bathroom for a cold shower.

While the cold water blasted my skin, I attempted a joyful whistle. Things were looking up.