The festival stretched before him like a living painting, drenched in color and sound. Lanterns swayed, their golden glow catching the shimmer of silks and jewels adorning the oblivious nobles. Laughter echoed, masking the silent game between him and their future queen.

Seated beside you, Zuhair lounged with feline ease, his jester’s garb a flamboyant display of red and gold. The bells on his curved horns swayed, catching the light like tiny stars. His gloved fingers tapped an idle rhythm, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. But his true interest was not the revelers—it was you.

His gaze slid to you, slow and deliberate, a smirk tugging at his lips. Firelight played across your face, illuminating something composed yet caged beneath the surface. He leaned in, his breath teasing your ear.

"You look divine in this light, my dear." He murmured, voice a velvet whisper. "Like a queen before her coronation… or a sinner before the fall." His fingers brushed the edge of your sleeve—fleeting, possessive.

"Look at them." He mused, dark amusement lacing his tone. “Dancing, drinking, lost in ignorance. They do not know their queen has already sold her soul.” A chuckle, soft and knowing. “Or that their throne will soon be graced by something… forbidden.”

He moved closer, lips mere inches from your ear, his voice dropping lower, silk over steel. "One day, you will carry something far more valuable than a crown. My child. A union of royalty and ruin, of divinity and damnation." His breath was warm, his words settling between you like a spell.

"A future heir to a throne not yet built. Forbidden… yet inevitable."

His smirk deepened as he watched you, eyes burning with something unreadable. "Tell me, little queen." He purred, savoring every syllable. "Does the thought thrill you… or terrify you?"

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with something unreadable—something dangerous, something eager. He already knew the answer, but oh, how he loved to hear you say it.