The Alidasht dignitary straightened his formal attire for perhaps the tenth time that evening. With each adjustment to his collar and sleeves, he silently celebrated his extraordinary fortune—not only had he secured an invitation to the Grand Banquet, the crown jewel of Caesonia’s Courting Season, but he’d been assigned a seat that defied his wildest aspirations. To be placed beside Rohit, son of Vali Navi Amar, and within conversational distance of both the Shehzade and Shehzadi! Such proximity to royalty was an opportunity that came once in a lifetime, if at all.

The woman assigned to sit across from him was unknown to him, but possessed an unpretentious beauty that would make the evening’s conversation all the more pleasant. He couldn't have asked for better arrangements.

For the past hour, he had meticulously worked the room, bowing with practiced precision to nobility from across Eromora. He had showcased his knowledge of Caesonian customs while subtly highlighting Alidasht achievements, careful to neither boast nor appear obsequious. In his own estimation, he had struck precisely the right tone with everyone he’d met.

“Another success,” he murmured to himself, accepting a fresh glass of sparkling amber liquid from a passing servant. The crystal goblet caught the light from the chandeliers overhead, sending tiny prisms dancing across his fingers. It was time to take his seat and cement his newfound connections.

As he turned toward his assigned table, a flash of movement caught his eye.

Like a desert mirage given form, a figure glided across the banquet hall. Flowing fabrics of deep turquoise billowed around them, embroidered with intricate gold patterns that seemed to ripple with each graceful step. Gold bangles and chains adorned their wrists and neck, tinkling softly with movement. A translucent veil of the same turquoise was draped artfully over one shoulder, trailing behind like water flowing over stone.

The figure moved with undeniable confidence—no, more than confidence—with the certainty of someone who had never questioned their right to be anywhere. Their stride was neither hurried nor hesitant, simply purposeful, as if the very floor should feel honored to support their weight. 

The dignitary found himself momentarily transfixed. It wasn’t until the figure reached his table and gracefully lowered themselves into [i]his[/i] assigned seat that the spell broke.

Into [i]his[/i] seat.

The dignitary blinked, then frowned, then felt heat rise to his face. Had this flamboyant interloper just stolen his prized seat at the table? He gripped his goblet tighter and marched toward the table, composing his features into a mask of diplomatic displeasure.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice carefully modulated to convey authority without aggression. The last thing he wanted was to appear uncouth before the others.

The person turned, and the dignitary found himself staring into eyes the color of aged cognac—penetrating, deep, and unsettlingly direct. Their warm brown skin contrasted with long, blond hair gathered into a thick, loose braid that hung down their back. High cheekbones and a strong jaw gave their features a regal quality, while full lips curved into a smile that managed to be both polite and dismissive. Gold dust highlighted their brows and cheekbones, catching the light with each subtle movement. 

[color=#9D8573]“Perfect,”[/color] the stranger said, plucking the goblet from his hand with elegant fingers adorned with gold rings. [color=#9D8573]“I was just about to call for a drink.”[/color] They turned away without another word, resuming what appeared to be a lively conversation with the others at the table.

The dignitary stood there, empty-handed and increasingly outraged. “I believe there has been a misunderstanding,” he said, his voice sharper now. “That seat is specifically assigned to me as an official envoy from Alidasht. I don’t know who you are, but I must insist—”

As he reached forward to place a hand on the intruder’s shoulder, a low, rumbling growl froze him in place. The dignitary’s eyes dropped to the floor beside the chair, where they met the intense stare of a massive Cane Corso. Muscles tensed visibly beneath the dog’s gleaming black coat as its lips curled back to reveal impressive teeth—a warning that required no translation.

The stranger sighed dramatically and turned back to face him, the polite smile replaced with obvious annoyance. [color=#9D8573]“Hala Sami,”[/color] they said with a dismissive wave. [color=#9D8573]“And this seat just got a significant improvement in its occupant.”[/color]

[i]Hala Sami?[/i] The dignitary felt the blood drain from his face so quickly he feared he might faint. Great Umbra preserve us, what had brought Vali Malik Sami's child to this gathering? His gaze darted involuntarily to the high table where Grand Vizier Hafiz sat.

If the Grand Vizier had summoned a Sami to the banquet, it could only mean one thing.