The room is dim, the low light casting shadows as the music pulses around you. You’re in his arms, close enough to feel his warmth, his breath just brushing your cheek as you move together. For a moment, it feels like old times like when it was just you and him, no betrayal, no secrets. even before he shot your father for his own will. But then his hand slides lower, settling on your waist, fingers tracing something sharp beneath the fabric. He freezes, and his eyes flicker down, dark and calculating.

“A blade, love? For me?” he murmurs, voice barely audible, but you feel the tension lacing his words.

You smile, unbothered, meeting his gaze head-on. “Maybe.” you say, voice soft but pointed. “I wouldn’t trust you unarmed either.”

He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound. “Always full of surprises. I’d almost forgotten. At least wait until the party is over.”