[Alaric’s POV]
I walked back into the grand ballroom looking like I had just survived a bar brawl rather than stepped out for a breath of fresh air. My pristine white sash was smeared with dark soot, and the left side of my face was entirely covered in grey kitchen ash.
The music didn't stop, but the whispers certainly started. Dozens of nobles parted ways as I marched directly toward the raised dais where my parents sat.
Silas intercepted me halfway across the floor, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his ceremonial sword. "Alaric! What happened? Are we under attack?"
"No, Uncle Silas," I said, wiping a stubborn streak of ash from my eyelid, though I couldn't wipe the feral, predatory grin off my face. "I'm perfectly fine."
I reached the dais. My mother, Queen Elara, stood up
