#Chapter 67 – None but Her

Damon The garden party was a performance. And I was its unwilling centerpiece. Music hummed from the far end of the garden—just loud enough to distract, not so loud it could mask the real conversations happening in whispers behind jeweled fans. I stood beside the advisory circle, a cluster of nobles and minor councilmen positioned for visibility and proximity to me. Jackson was mid-conversation with a merchant family from the West, praising trade routes I hadn’t approved yet. Ronan lingered at my side, quiet and watchful. But my attention wasn’t on the delegation. Not really. It was on her. Elena moved like a flame in stone. All edges and silence and flickers of something that didn’t belong here. She was paired with Asher, and that was its own problem. He wore court black like a funeral shroud, every step laced with a kind of calculated laziness that made people forget how dangerous he was. She looked beautiful. Distant. Composed. But not at all relaxed. Her fin