71 - Pull
The Grand Chancellor’s presence carried weight. Not the suffocating kind like Zafiel’s… but something refined. Controlled. Calculated.
Keiran Darcel Bellinor stood before Mariana with the ease of someone who understood power intimately—and knew exactly how to wield it without ever appearing overbearing.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. Then, it shifted. To her dress.
A faint smile curved his lips. “You look stunning tonight, Your Highness,” he said smoothly. “The craftsmanship alone speaks volumes, but… it suits you exceptionally well.”
Mariana blinked, slightly caught off guard. “… thank you.”
It was a normal compliment. Polite. Expected. Safe. But then, his eyes dropped to her neck. And for the first time since approaching her, Keiran’s composure cracked. Just slightly.
His pupils constricted. His shoulders stiffened—so subtly that only someone watching closely would notice. Mariana didn’t. But Eirwen did. So did Aguerico.
And most certainly, so did the man watching from across the hall. Keiran recovered almost instantly. Too quickly for most to catch.
He took a small, almost imperceptible step back, his smile returning as if nothing had happened. But inside...
That is no ordinary necklace. That… belongs to the Imperial Treasury. More specifically... to the Empress.
His thoughts sharpened.
And now it’s on her?
His gaze flickered briefly toward the far side of the hall. Toward Zafiel.
Ah… I see. So it’s already at this stage?
But then, something else caught his attention. Mariana’s posture. The way her fingers occasionally brushed against the hidden pendant. Not with pride. Not with affection. But with discomfort.
… interesting.
Keiran’s mind moved quickly.
So she’s not entirely willing. That changes things. Opportunity, then.
His smile softened—this time more genuine. “If I may say, Your Highness,” he added gently, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel private, “you need not look so tense.”
Mariana blinked. “I-I’m that obvious...?”
“To someone observant, yes.”
She let out a small, awkward laugh. “I’m not very good at this kind of thing…”
“That is not a flaw,” Keiran said calmly. “In fact… it makes you far more refreshing than most.”
Her shoulders relaxed—just slightly. And Keiran noticed.
Good.
Before he could continue...
“Mariana!” A familiar voice cut in again. Bright. Unfiltered. And completely disruptive.
Mariana froze. “… please no…” She whispered.
Too late. Kael had already made his way through the crowd, practically ignoring every noble etiquette rule in existence. Beside him, a composed figure in priestly robes. High Priest Bane. They approached without hesitation.
And just like that, Keiran was gently but very effectively edged aside. “… Archmage Kael.” Keiran greeted politely, though there was a faint edge beneath his tone.
Kael barely acknowledged him. “Mariana!” he repeated, stopping right in front of her with an enthusiastic grin. “You came!”
“I-I can see that…” Mariana muttered, already feeling the stares intensify.
The whispers returned immediately.
“Archmage Kael…”
“He’s speaking to her so casually…?”
“Just how connected is she…?”
Mariana wanted to evaporate.
Kael, completely oblivious, leaned slightly closer. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something!”
“Here...?” She asked weakly.
“Yes! About magic circles.” His eyes were practically sparkling. “The reinforcement arrays we discussed? I think they can be improved, but I need your input.”
Mariana blinked.
Magic... ri-right. Focus. This is good. Safe topic.
“I-I can look into it…” She said.
Kael beamed. “Great!”
Meanwhile, beside him, High Priest Bane stepped forward with far more composure. He bowed respectfully. “Grand Princess.”
Mariana straightened slightly. “High Priest.”
His expression was calm. Observant. “I bring regards from His Holiness.”
Mariana paused.
The Pope?
“Thank you.” She replied carefully.
Bane studied her for a moment. Then, “If your schedule permits,” he continued, “the Temple would be honored to receive your visit at the Grand Basilica.”
Mariana’s heart skipped. Temple. Saintess. Her plan.
This… is exactly what I need.
She nodded. “I would like that.”
And just like that, the whispers exploded again.
“She accepted…”
“The Temple is acknowledging her…!”
“Is she really becoming the Saintess…?”
Keiran watched from the side, eyes narrowing slightly.
So she’s aligning herself with the Temple as well? Interesting. Very interesting.
Before the situation could escalate further, music filled the hall. Soft at first. Then rising. The unmistakable rhythm of a waltz.
“Ah…” Keiran exhaled softly.
Perfect timing.
He stepped forward again, reclaiming his space with effortless grace. “Your Highness,” he said, offering his hand, “may I have this dance?”
Mariana blinked.
Dance…?
Her eyes flickered to his hand. Then back to his face.
This is normal, right…? This is just—
Before she could answer, a presence moved behind her. Close. Too close. And then, warmth.
Firm arms gently, but unmistakably, pulled her back. Right into a solid chest. Mariana froze. Her breath hitched. She didn’t need to turn. She already knew.
“Apologies, Grand Chancellor.” The voice was calm. Polite. But carried an edge that silenced everything around them. Zafiel Abaddon von Clematis.
Keiran’s hand lowered immediately. He bowed without hesitation. “Your Imperial Highness.”
Mariana’s face burned. Because of the proximity. Because of the way Zafiel’s hand rested lightly—but securely—at her waist. Because of the way her back was pressed against him. Too close. Way too close. Her heartbeat went wild. Again.
Zafiel didn’t look at Keiran. Not immediately. His gaze was on Mariana. Only her. Then, finally, he spoke. “I’ll take this one.” Not a question. Not a request. A statement.
Keiran straightened, a faint smile on his lips. “Of course.” His eyes flickered briefly to Mariana. Then back to Zafiel. “I would not dream of interfering.”
But there was meaning behind those words. Subtle. Sharp. Zafiel noticed, of course he did. But he said nothing. Because he didn’t need to.
Keiran stepped back. Retreated but not defeated. Not entirely. As he moved away, his thoughts lingered.
This isn’t over, not even close.
Back at the center, Mariana was still frozen. “Yo-You…” she whispered under her breath. “You can’t just... just pull people like that…!”
“I can.” Zafiel replied simply.
“That’s not the point…!”
“It is.”
She inhaled sharply.
God, he’s impossible…!
But her protest weakened. Because his hand hadn’t moved. Because his presence was overwhelming. Because her heart refused to calm down. The music swelled. The dance had begun.
And without asking again, Zafiel guided her forward. Straight into the center of the floor. Where everyone could see. Where everyone would watch.
And as whispers followed them once more, only one thing was certain. This wasn’t just a dance. It was a declaration.