Arabella rarely wore a long dress, but today she did. The design was simple, yet the cut and fabric were exquisite. Her figure was slim and well-proportioned, and the flowing gown only accentuated her graceful movements.
The red dress complemented her fair skin, as white as snow. Even though her appearance was altered, it still didn't make her stand out, but it certainly caught everyone's attention.
Arabella certainly didn't want to wear such a bold color, but unfortunately, the royal banquet forbade black, white, or dark colors.
Her fair skin made her radiant in any color she wore. Without hesitation, she slipped on the gift Raven had given her that day, making practical use of it.
When she emerged in her new outfit, several men's eyes widened. Taras, not holding back at all, stepped forward, opened his arms, and pulled Arabella into an intimate embrace, flirting with her.
His status was unique; he wasn't one of Arabella's subordinates. But if one were to call him her man, then Arabella had men everywhere.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to call him one of her public bed partners.
He cradled Arabella's head, his Adam's apple rolling as their passionate kiss deepened. His hand slid down her slender waist, igniting a fire as it trailed along her bare back. The touch was smooth and delicate, without a hint of roughness.
Arabella could truly be called a rare flower blooming amidst the flames of war.
He was lost in the tenderness, while the other men could only watch, almost as if they could kill him with their gazes. But no one moved. They were of lower status, and none of them had the rightful authority to stop it.
Arabella wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss with surprising gentleness. Her lashes were long and curled, fluttering with each blink, casting a shadow over her eyes that made it impossible to discern her true emotions.
Taras didn't close his eyes either. His strikingly beautiful gaze concealed a fleeting, subtle emotion that disappeared in an instant.
After a moment of intimate affection, as if no one else was around, Arabella took Bramwell with her to the banquet.
The others continued with their business as usual, but right now, the one making the most waves was Raven.
When Arabella's power was stable and her territory secure, Raven had merely been one of her followers. Even when he was impressive, he was still under her control.
Now that Arabella had concealed her identity, letting Raven make a name for himself, his influence had been rapidly growing.
In truth, everyone knew exactly what Raven was capable of. What couldn't he do? Given time, he'd undoubtedly become a power unto himself. But this act of bowing to a woman, this submission, was something that never once caught Arabella's eye.
She didn't need to rely on any man, nor did she need to use her beauty to seduce. In her eyes, there were only those who were useful and those who were not.
Today, Bramwell wore a deep blue open-front cloak, an attire from Manos reserved only for the aristocracy. It suited his disguised identity perfectly.
He also disguised his features, chiseling his naturally delicate face into one of sharp angles and deep-set features, making it immediately obvious that he was of foreign mixed heritage.
Just as they stepped out of the car, still far from the main hall of the palace, Arabella held Bramwell close, the corners of her mouth curling upward. Yet beneath her smile, there was a hidden edge.
"There's an ambush."
Bramwell was startled by her words, his hand moving instinctively, but it was quickly pinned by Arabella.
"Why are you panicking?"
Bramwell opened his mouth, but swallowed his words back down.
If a typical man were to say he cared for and protected a woman, it would be a joke when applied to Arabella.
So far, no man has had the right to say, "Arabella, I will protect you."
But even so, the concerns remain.
"Do you think our identities have been exposed? Should we prepare to retreat in advance?"
"No need. It's not aimed at us. Looks like we're in for some entertainment."
*
George held the stem of a goblet in his right hand, his left arm casually resting on the railing. He leaned slightly, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side. Dressed in a sleek, black military uniform, its buttons fastened tight from top to bottom, his face was concealed behind a soft golden mask, leaving his true identity a mystery.
He was waiting for someone, like a beast lying in ambush, eager to pounce on his chosen prey.
When the high-pitched voices of the palace guards approached, George's gaze instantly darkened.
It's her!
Although her appearance had changed once again, her demeanor and gaze remained unchanged. She moved with an air of calm grace, strolling confidently as if completely unaffected by the world around her.
He didn't care about the real appearance beneath the disguise.
What he cared for was the soul beneath that skin—so unique, it was impossible to forget at first glance.
Arabella paid no mind to the curious gazes around her. With a smile, she held Bramwell close, yet she had already taken note of every hidden force and the subtle shifts of vigilance surrounding them.
"Wait a moment, do as I instructed."
Bramwell nodded, pretending to be unaware.
Being on the combat list wasn't without reason. He was well aware of every detail, including the distribution of firepower.
The royal banquet was naturally luxurious and noble, with all the elites and powerbrokers in attendance. Yet, the most powerful man in the nation, General George, had yet to make an appearance, and even his unmarried sister was absent, which disappointed those who had hoped to network with them.
Halfway through the banquet, General George finally appeared in his military attire, standing tall and straight, drawing the attention of everyone.
Arabella sharply sensed that the previously hidden sniper had suddenly made a move.
She let out a soft chuckle, shifting her gaze to the now visible George.
So this was the real target. This show was certainly getting interesting.
At the moment the gunshot rang out, Bramwell instinctively tensed his body, ready to react immediately.
However, Arabella directly pulled him down into a squat, leisurely saying, "Find a good spot to watch the show."
In an instant, the grand banquet hall transformed from a paradise into a hell on earth.
This was clearly a premeditated coup, with all firepower focused on George.
However, the guards around George were clearly not weak, escorting him as he retreated towards a safe zone.
Gunshots continued outside, indicating that the force behind this coup was formidable. Just from the sound of the gunfire, it was clear the firepower was intense.
Arabella, with Bramwell, blended into the panicked, screaming crowd, yet she skillfully dodged each bullet that swept by. It seemed perilous, but in reality, there was no danger.
Bramwell had to conceal his strength, so he followed Arabella. In fact, neither of them took this small-scale commotion seriously.
He looked down at their intertwined hands, fingers tightly clasped, and couldn't help but smile.
It was good—a bond forged in the flames of war. It made him feel as if he and Arabella were just an ordinary couple, facing danger together, living and dying side by side.
From a distance, George felt his blood boil.
He fixed his gaze on the woman he desired, while the crowd around them panicked in chaos. Yet only her eyes remained calm and composed, scanning the surroundings with the clarity of a hawk circling in the sky.
This woman was definitely not simple.
He glanced toward the place where firepower was concentrated—it was where his disguised bodyguard captain was stationed.
For a young man to rise to power and control the nation, his skills and sharpness were obviously extraordinary.
For a coup of this scale to think they could take him down was pure fantasy.
The land stretches endlessly, its grandeur and brilliance vast as a thousand miles of embroidered silk. Yet, no matter how captivating power may be, it must still be earned by one's own skill.
In the past, he would have already taken action to crush such a fledgling coup.
But as he was about to act, he realized this could be an opportunity to get closer to that woman through the coup.
When George quietly moved closer, Bramwell was the first to react.
He didn't care at this moment whether his actions would expose him. With both hands wrapped tightly around Arabella, he held her in a stance of complete vigilance.
As soon as the other person drew near, Bramwell felt a powerful, masculine aura—like the king of the jungle whose presence could be felt by all the beasts, even from a great distance.
Arabella was indifferent.
She had already sensed that predatory look a few times before.
The first time was at the pool party that night, then again at the casino. Now, feeling that same intense, aggressive gaze, Arabella found herself intrigued.
She subtly surveyed the entire scene, listening carefully to the gunfire outside. She could sense that the coup had yet to show any signs of success.
This didn't seem like the unprepared, caught-off-guard scenario on George's side.
Arabella widened her smile at the corner of her lips and gave Bramwell a look.
Bramwell was naturally reluctant. It was clear to him that the target was Arabella.
It was like a wolf eyeing fresh meat, its gaze predatory, and the look in his eyes clearly marked him as a predator for lust.
Arabella raised an eyebrow and glanced back, locking eyes with the approaching man.
At that moment, George did not know that some fates were not entirely good. Some people were born to be cursed, destined to be a nightmare in this life.
Not every emotional encounter ends in joy; perhaps it will end in a life-or-death struggle.
Perhaps it's better to part ways early, before things even begin.
But people, without going through everything, how could they easily give up?
