Tamed by a tyrant

**Chapter Sixteen: A Toast of Thorns**

The banquet began with music—sweet and bright, as if the palace hadn't been crawling with secrets for months.

Lorenzo stood near the dais, dressed in deep navy silk embroidered with golden flames, the crest of the royal house gleaming on his shoulder. His presence commanded attention. Power. Grace. But more than that—danger. He didn't smile. He didn't need to.

He watched everyone.

So did I.

I moved through the room like a slow tide, dressed in crimson silk stitched with black thorns. My hair pinned high, my lips painted deep red. I smiled at those who stared too long and nodded at those who looked away too quickly.

The trap had already been set.

Now it was time to see who stepped into it.

* * *

Lorenzo's voice echoed through the golden hall as he raised a glass.

"My lords and ladies, welcome. Tonight, we celebrate harvest and prosperity. Unity and peace. But more than that—we celebrate loyalty."

Some clapped. Others hesitated.

I watched the Queen Mother.

She smiled.

But her eyes… her eyes were daggers.

I stepped up beside Lorenzo just as he finished his toast.

"And to my bride," he said, lowering the glass. "For standing when the court expected her to kneel."

All eyes turned to me.

I curtsied—low, but not submissive.

When I rose, I spoke:

"And to my husband—for returning before the wolves could bite."

Gasps.

Laughter from some. Stiff postures from others.

And in the back, I saw Everin exchange a glance with Delane.

Let the hunt begin.

* * *

An hour into the banquet, the music grew louder, the wine stronger, and the masks heavier.

Not the ones sewn of silk and lace.

The masks made of smiles.

Deceit.

Fear.

I moved through the crowd slowly, searching for the ones on Lorenzo's list. Many of them stood together—safe in numbers. But some watched me, wondering whose side I truly stood on.

I made sure they couldn't tell.

I danced with a duke I knew was loyal to the Queen Mother.

I laughed with a merchant who passed letters in secret.

I brushed fingers with a woman who had once threatened Elira in the dark.

Let them all wonder.

Let them believe I was theirs.

Just a little longer.

* * *

"Come with me," Lorenzo said, hours later, his voice low in my ear.

He took my hand—not harsh, not rushed—but firm.

He led me out of the hall, past the stone archways, and into one of the private chambers near the north wing.

When the door closed behind us, silence pressed in.

Then—

"You're brilliant," he said.

My brows lifted. "That's new."

"You had them in the palm of your hand."

"You noticed?"

"I couldn't take my eyes off you."

His hand slid to my waist.

And just like that, the tension snapped.

I didn't hold back when he kissed me.

Didn't pause when he pinned me against the carved oak table.

This was not the soft kind of kiss.

It was fire meeting fire.

Hands desperate to map what they'd nearly lost. Lips hungry not just for passion, but for truth. His jacket hit the floor. My pins fell one by one.

"You looked like a goddess in red," he whispered against my skin.

"You looked like revenge," I breathed back.

Clothes were loosened. Not all removed—just enough to feel heat and skin and the wild, urgent promise of *now*. My back arched. His breath caught. We moved like dancers trained in destruction, familiar with each other's rhythm and ruin.

And when we finished, it wasn't with sighs.

It was with stillness.

Foreheads pressed. Hearts racing.

His thumb brushed my cheek.

"You terrify me," he said.

"Good," I whispered. "Then we're even."

* * *

We returned to the banquet before anyone could whisper.

Before anyone could notice.

But something had shifted between us.

Not just passion.

Purpose.

We were no longer two players in the palace.

We were a single weapon.

Sharpened. Aligned. Ready.

* * *

The Queen Mother approached as the final dessert was being served.

She wore emerald again—matching her ring, her earrings, even the green in her cold, calculating eyes.

"You seem to enjoy the crowd tonight," she said.

"I enjoy many things," I replied.

She leaned in just a little. "The Circle is watching."

I smiled. "Let them."

Her expression didn't falter. "You've changed."

"So has your son."

"And if the banquet turns bloody?"

I sipped wine. "Then red was the right choice."

* * *

It happened at midnight.

Just as the musicians began a slower waltz.

Lorenzo lifted his hand.

And six guards moved at once.

Three noblemen were dragged out. One screamed. One fainted. The third cursed the prince's name.

Then two servants.

Then a court advisor—Lady Thessa, the woman who'd handed me poisoned perfume just two weeks ago.

Cries erupted across the room.

Chairs scraped back.

Panic.

Confusion.

Lorenzo's voice rang out, calm but sharp.

"Traitors in my court. In my house. Conspiring against my crown. Their fates will be decided at dawn."

I stood beside him, unmoving.

Not as his wife.

As his equal.

* * *

That night, the palace didn't sleep.

Nor did I.

I stood at the highest tower window and watched the courtyard as each arrested traitor was separated, interrogated, silenced.

Elira joined me hours later.

"They're afraid of you now," she whispered.

"They should be."

Lorenzo entered not long after.

He didn't speak.

He just wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest.

We stood there together.

Watching the dawn rise on the kingdom we were about to remake.

With fire.

And blood.