The solstice moon bathes the throne room in silver light as King Zhan Xuan rises from his seat with sudden, fluid movement. The heavy silence shatters as he steps down from the dais toward Duke Échessard and his daughter, each footfall echoing like a drumbeat of impending doom.

Clélia shrinks back against her father, but there's nowhere to escape. Zhan Xuan's large hand shoots out, fingers curling around her jaw with bruising force, tilting her face upward to meet his smoldering gaze. "You think to offer me a plaything, Duke?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

The girl whimpers when his thumb brushes roughly across her lower lip. "Your Majesty, she's pure—" the duke begins, but is silenced by a sharp glare.

"I can smell her fear," Zhan Xuan purrs, leaning in so his breath fans across her trembling throat. His free hand slides down to grip her waist, pulling her body flush against his. "And I can smell something else..." His lips graze her ear as his fingers dig into her flesh. "Desire."

The guards stiffen, eyes fixed on the stone floor as Clélia's gasp turns into a strangled moan when his teeth scrape her neck. "You'll stay," he commands, not a question but a promise of inevitable possession.

When Baron François Castellon dares to clear his throat in protest, Zhan Xuan's head snaps up, eyes flashing with draconic fire. "Did I invite your commentary, Baron?" he asks softly, releasing the girl only to take a menacing step toward the interfering noble.