EPISODE FIVE
1695 Words
A Dangerous Invitation
After the intense breakfast, Leo barely had time to process the royal interrogation before he was whisked away into another exhausting part of his new life—etiquette training.
“Sit up straight.”
Leo groaned, adjusting his posture on the velvet sofa. “I am sitting straight.”
Elara, who had taken it upon herself to coach him, arched an unimpressed brow. “You’re slouching.”
“This is how normal people sit,” Leo argued, crossing his arms. “Not everyone walks around like they have a ruler taped to their spine.”
Elara smirked, sipping her tea. “You’re not a normal person anymore, darling.”
Leo sighed dramatically. “Remind me why I agreed to this again?”
She tilted her head. “The money. And perhaps a tiny bit of intrigue?”
Okay, fair.
They were in one of the palace’s sunlit lounges, an elegant space decorated with delicate gold accents and floor-to-ceiling windows. A perfect setting for royalty—less perfect for Leo, who was rapidly losing patience with all the rules.
“No slouching,” Elara continued. “No using slang in formal settings. No drinking straight from the bottle—”
“Who does that at a royal banquet?” Leo muttered.
“You, probably.”
Leo grinned. “Only if the wine’s good.”
Elara shook her head, but there was laughter in her eyes. “You know, you’re a breath of fresh air, Leo. Adrian needs someone who doesn’t cower in his presence.”
Leo’s smirk faltered slightly. “I don’t not cower. I just have a high tolerance for emotionally constipated royals.”
She chuckled. “That makes you special, then.”
Before Leo could respond, the lounge doors opened, and Lord Marcus entered. His expression was unreadable, as always, but there was an unusual weight to his presence.
“Mr. Carter,” he said smoothly. “You have been invited to a very exclusive event.”
Leo blinked. “Uh… okay?”
Adrian stepped in behind Marcus, his posture stiff. “It’s an aristocratic gathering. Not official, but important.”
Leo frowned. “What kind of gathering?”
Marcus hesitated. “One hosted by Duke Alistair Halloway.”
The name didn’t mean much to Leo, but the way Adrian’s expression darkened did.
Leo glanced between them. “Okay. Who’s that? And why do I feel like I just agreed to attend a meeting with a supervillain?”
Adrian exhaled sharply. “He’s a powerful aristocrat. One of my father’s strongest allies. And he doesn’t believe in… modernizing traditions.”
Leo raised a brow. “You mean he doesn’t like the idea of you having a male consort.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched. “He doesn’t like change. Period.”
Elara’s amusement faded. “Are you sure about this, Adrian? Alistair never extends invitations unless he has a reason.”
Marcus nodded. “It’s a test.”
Leo tilted his head. “A test of what?”
Adrian met his gaze. “Whether you’re strong enough to survive in this world.”
Leo’s stomach twisted slightly at that. He had expected scrutiny, sure—but something about Adrian’s tone made it clear: this wasn’t just about public image. It was about power.
And if he wasn’t careful, he could lose everything.
—
The Duke’s Gathering
The event was held in a lavish private estate, surrounded by towering walls and opulence that even the royal palace would envy.
Leo stepped out of the car, dressed in another perfectly tailored suit, and tried to ignore the way Adrian’s presence beside him made the air feel heavier.
“You ready for this?” Leo murmured as they approached the grand entrance.
Adrian didn’t look at him, but his voice was quieter than usual. “No.”
Leo blinked. “Wait—was that sarcasm or are you actually—”
“We’re being watched,” Adrian cut in, his expression smoothing into the perfect royal mask.
Leo sighed. “Of course we are.”
The moment they stepped inside, whispers followed them.
Elegant men and women, draped in luxury, turned to observe—their gazes sharp, calculating.
Leo recognized the moment the Duke arrived.
Alistair Halloway was a man of presence—tall, silver-haired, with a gaze that made people straighten their backs. His smile was polite, but something about it sent a chill down Leo’s spine.
“Your Highness,” the Duke greeted smoothly, shaking Adrian’s hand. “And Mr. Carter, I presume.”
Leo forced a charming smile. “The one and only.”
Alistair chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “I’ve heard much about you.”
Leo shrugged. “All good things, I hope.”
The Duke’s gaze didn’t waver. “That remains to be seen.”
Adrian stepped in slightly, his presence firm. “We’re here for a pleasant evening, Alistair. Nothing more.”
The Duke’s smirk widened. “Of course, Your Highness.”
Leo had a feeling that was a lie.
—
The First Move
As the evening progressed, Leo realized exactly what kind of game they were playing.
This wasn’t just a party. It was a battlefield.
The aristocrats didn’t insult him outright—that would be too crass. Instead, they tested him in subtler ways. Backhanded compliments. Loaded questions. Challenges disguised as polite conversation.
Leo handled it with his usual charm, dodging traps like a seasoned performer. But then—
“Mr. Carter,” the Duke said, swirling his wine. “Tell me, how does it feel to be chosen? To be lifted from obscurity into a world you never belonged to?”
Silence followed.
Leo glanced at Adrian, whose jaw tightened.
Ah. So that’s the game.
A hush fell over the room, waiting for his reaction.
Leo took a slow sip of his drink, then smiled. “Oh, it’s absolutely terrifying,” he said cheerfully. “Waking up in silk sheets? Having a wardrobe I didn’t buy at a discount store? People serving me gourmet meals instead of takeout? Truly horrifying.”
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, but Alistair’s gaze sharpened.
Leo leaned forward slightly. “But you know what’s really scary, Duke Halloway?”
Alistair arched a brow.
Leo’s smile widened. “Realizing that no matter how much power someone thinks they have, it can all change with a single decision.”
A flicker of something—amusement? Warning?—crossed the Duke’s face.
Adrian’s fingers brushed against Leo’s under the table. It was so brief that Leo might have imagined it.
But when he glanced at Adrian, there was something almost approving in his gaze.
For the first time since this whole mess started, Adrian wasn’t just tolerating him.
He was watching him.
And maybe—just maybe—Leo had just won the first round.
The Dance of Power
The tension in the Duke’s estate hadn’t faded. If anything, after Leo’s sharp response to Alistair Holloway, the atmosphere thickened—charged with something unspoken but undeniably present.
The aristocrats had taken notice.
Leo could feel their gazes, assessing him like a new piece on a chessboard. Some were amused, others intrigued. A few, like Theo, were outright skeptical. But the most dangerous ones? They were the ones who remained silent, watching, waiting.
And then, the music started.
A graceful waltz filled the hall, signaling the start of the evening’s traditional dance. Couples began to pair up, gliding onto the polished marble floor.
Leo exhaled, glancing at Adrian. “Tell me I don’t have to dance.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
Instead, he stood, adjusting his cufflinks with the same precision he did everything. When he finally spoke, his voice was low enough that only Leo could hear.
“You wanted to prove you belong here, didn’t you?”
Leo frowned. “What does that—”
Adrian turned to him, extending a hand.
Leo’s breath caught.
The ballroom quieted.
The Crown Prince of Velandria was offering a dance. With him.
Leo barely had time to process it before Adrian’s expression hardened. “Take my hand, or walk away.”
Another test.
A very, very public one.
Leo’s heart pounded. He could refuse, could let Adrian dance with some elegant noblewoman and avoid the scrutiny. But that would mean letting them win—letting them believe he wasn’t worthy of standing at Adrian’s side.
Leo never backed down from a challenge.
So, with a smirk, he slid his hand into Adrian’s.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Adrian led him onto the dance floor, their movements effortless despite the fact that Leo had never done this before. The prince was an expert, his grip firm, guiding Leo with perfect precision.
Leo tried to ignore how close they were.
How the warmth of Adrian’s palm against his own sent an odd shiver up his spine.
“You’ve done this before,” Adrian murmured.
Leo snorted. “I learned for a role once. Got cut in the first five minutes.”
Adrian hummed, his tone unreadable. “You’re doing well.”
Leo glanced up, meeting those piercing silver-blue eyes. For a moment, the tension in the room faded. It was just them—locked in a waltz, moving in sync.
But then—
A voice cut through the air like a blade.
“How charming,” Alistair said smoothly, watching them with cold amusement. “His Highness and his… actor.”
Leo didn’t stiffen. Didn’t let the insult hit. Instead, he smirked. “Oh, don’t sound so surprised, Your Grace. I am quite good at pretending.”
The Duke’s gaze flickered with something dangerous. “Indeed.”
The music slowed.
Adrian’s grip on Leo’s waist tightened—so brief, so slight, that Leo almost didn’t notice. But he did.
And he realized something.
Adrian wasn’t just dancing with him to prove a point.
He was protecting him.
From what, Leo didn’t know.
But as the waltz ended, and Adrian stepped back with a perfectly measured nod, Leo had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t just a game anymore.
This was war.
And he had just taken his first real step onto the battlefield.
- Writer
