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48: A Grand Gathering

The clatter of the carriage wheels was all Adrian could hear. He sat opposite Lysander and Natasha, staring blankly at the passing scenery outside the window.

Adrian leaned his elbow on the windowsill and let his thoughts wander as he watched the city blur past. Hopefully nothing too out of the ordinary happens at this ball.

Lysander’s deep voice cut through the hum of the wheels, breaking Adrian’s reverie. “Adrian?"

“Yes?”

“You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Adrian shifted in his seat, tugging lightly at the stiff collar of his formal attire. He resisted the urge to sigh, offering a small, casual shrug. “Nothing much, just feeling a bit stuffy in these clothes.”

The boy fiddled with his cufflinks, hoping the conversation would veer elsewhere, but Natasha’s sharp laugh dashed those hopes. “You’re a terrible liar,” she said, leaning back into the plush upholstery of the carriage.

“Come on, out with it. What’s really on your mind?"

With a resigned sigh, Adrian relented. “Fine. I guess I’m just a little nervous."

Lysander chuckled. “You’re overthinking it. Not everyone at the ball is going to have their eyes on you.”

Adrian gave a half-smile but didn’t look entirely convinced. “Not to be rude, but the people there are all… you know."

"It's fine to say it out loud lad, let's face it, everyone at the ball is going to be tied to crime one way or another."

"Exactly, and I'm just a bit worried that a lot could happen."

Lysander laughed again. “You’re not wrong, but you don’t need to worry about that. For tonight, everyone will all be on their best behavior."

Natasha nodded, brushing a stray wave of violet hair from her face. “Daddy’s right, no one wants to cause a scene at a big event like this, it’s bad for business. Even criminals understand that.”

“So, nothing’s ever gone wrong before?” Adrian asked.

Natasha let out a short laugh. “Define ‘wrong.’” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “There was that one time someone thought it was a good idea to smuggle weapons in and start a fight over territory. Didn’t last long, though.”

Lysander waved a hand dismissively. “That was just a silly misunderstanding.”

“And then there was the poisoned wine,” Natasha added.

“That was over a decade ago, and it was handled before anyone even touched their drinks.” Lysander explained.

Natasha smirked. “See? Perfectly safe.”

Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin line. Seems like I should still be on my guard, but I should still act natural to not draw too much attention.

After a few minutes, the carriage slowed, its wheels crunching softly against the cobblestone driveway before coming to a complete halt. Outside, a small group of Whitewynn family staff awaited their arrival, standing rigidly in sharp, formal attire. Each wore an air of precision, their hands clasped behind their backs and their gazes sharp, though respectful. The one closest to the door stepped forward, opening it with a slight bow.

Lysander emerged first, while Natasha followed close behind, her violet hair glimmering in the light as she stepped gracefully onto the stones. The staff greeted them in unison with murmured deference, “Master Whitewynn. Miss Natasha.”

Neither offered more than a curt nod in response, their poise unbroken as they began moving toward the grand building ahead. Adrian stepped out last, his boots touching the cobblestones with a quiet thud.

None of the staff offered verbal acknowledgment this time, merely a flicker of a nod before their eyes shifted back to Lysander and Natasha. Guess I’m just the tagalong here, Adrian thought, his lips tightening as he turned his attention to the venue before them.

The building was a monument to indulgence, complete with towering marble columns. Golden light poured out from massive windows, and through the glass, the hum of music and the rise and fall of chatter teased at the senses, offering a glimpse of the revelry within.

Adrian couldn’t stop his breath from catching as he took it all in. Certainly an impressive looking place at the very least.

“Who owns this place?” he asked.

Lysander paused in his stride, glancing back at Adrian with a grin. “No one and everyone. Every major gang and family in South Tusk has a shared stake in this building to ensure it remains a neutral ground with shared interests."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Neutral ground for criminals? That’s... unexpected.”

“Don’t act so surprised. Even the worst of us can play nice when there’s enough money on the line.” Natasha said. “Now, come on. You don’t want to make a bad impression by gawking out here like some lost tourist.”

Adrian huffed quietly, falling into step behind them. Time for the main event.

The grand entrance of the venue was a showcase of wealth and influence, with polished marble floors reflecting the glow of ornate chandeliers above. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfumes, mingling with the subtle aroma of well-prepared food carried on trays by servers weaving through the crowd.

Adrian followed Lysander and Natasha to the front, where a pair of guards in black uniforms stood watch. They straightened slightly, offering polite nods of recognition as Lysander approached.

“Lord Whitewynn,” one greeted, stepping aside to let him and Natasha pass.

When Adrian stepped forward to follow, the second guard moved to block his path with a firm hand. “And this one?”

He froze in place, his chest tightening under the intensity of their stares. Just perfect. Of course this would happen.

Lysander halted mid-step, turning back with the faintest flicker of amusement dancing across his face. “The boy’s with me."

The guards exchanged a glance before stepping aside in unison. “Understood, my lord."

Adrian moved quickly to catch up, shoulders tense as he passed the guards without meeting their eyes. Thought that would've gone worse than it did.

The scene inside made him falter for just a second. The ballroom was so grand it was almost overwhelming.

Towering arches framed the vast space as a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. The chandelier’s countless facets refracted golden hues across the room, creating a mesmerizing display.

Guests dressed in opulent silks and intricate embroidery moved gracefully beneath it, their laughter and conversation merging into a harmonious hum. Musicians, dressed with the same meticulous refinement as the guests, played a gentle symphony of strings and woodwinds, weaving seamlessly into the refined atmosphere.

Lysander led the way into the crowd. Heads turned as the trio moved through the room, guests pausing mid-conversation to either nod respectfully or whisper behind raised hands.

Adrian stuck close, his gaze darting around the opulent space. It seems everyone here decided to dress ostentatiously, not sure if I should be impressed or if these people are just overcompensating for something.

Lysander stopped near a cluster of well-dressed individuals and greeted them. “Bellingham, Marquette,” he said smoothly, inclining his head slightly. “It’s good to see you both.”

Lord Bellingham was a stout figure with a meticulously groomed mustache and a suit that practically glowed with embroidered gold. He gave a hearty laugh, extending a hand to Lysander. “Ah, Lysander, always a pleasure. And who are these young ones accompanying you tonight?”

“This is my daughter, Natasha,” Lysander said, his voice filled with pride as he gestured toward her. “And this is Adrian, he's a… new addition to the family."

Adrian offered a small nod, his throat tightening under Lord Bellingham’s gaze. “It’s an honor to meet you."

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Lord Bellingham chuckled, seemingly satisfied. "Is that so? Well, Lysander, it seems you’ve got quite the entourage tonight.”

Natasha stepped forward. “Father thought it best I not be left to fend off the wolves on my own."

Lady Marquette, a statuesque woman draped in shimmering emerald silk, laughed lightly. “Wise as always, Lysander. The wolves here are particularly cunning.”

The group exchanged a few more pleasantries before Lysander guided Natasha and Adrian toward another cluster of guests. Each introduction was much the same: polite smiles, measured words, and a sense of undeniable tension disguised as civility. Adrian found himself nodding and murmuring respectful greetings, all the while trying to keep his composure under the weight of so many judgmental gazes.

Is this how these events always are? All smiles on the surface but everyone secretly sizing each other up? He couldn’t tell if he was imagining the tension or if the ballroom was truly as volatile as it felt.

Lysander, on the other hand, was more than comfortable. It was clear that his reputation alone commanded respect, and Adrian couldn’t help but feel a grudging admiration for the man’s effortless charisma.

After several more introductions, they paused near the edge of the ballroom. Lysander glanced around, picking out familiar faces in the crowd. “I’ll have to speak with a few family heads." He turned to Adrian, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. “You’ll keep an eye on Natasha for me.”

Adrian blinked, caught off guard. “Are you sure about leaving us alone? What if something—?”

“If something goes wrong,” Lysander interrupted smoothly, “your only concern is to get her out of here. Find the nearest Whitewynn staff member.” He gestured subtly toward the crowd, pointing out a man in a sleek suit and a woman in a flowing gown. Both wore tattoos on their wrists depicting a white lion’s head. “Those are our people. They’ll handle the rest.”

Adrian studied the staff members Lysander indicated, committing their appearances to memory. Get her out. Find them. Got it.

Natasha released an exaggerated sigh. “Daddy, don’t you think you’ve spent enough time fussing over us?” Her voice carried that distinct blend of mockery and affection Adrian had come to expect.

Lysander chuckled warmly. “You’re right, Princess.” Leaning down, he placed a quick, affectionate kiss atop her violet hair. “Try not to cause too much trouble."

With that, Lysander straightened to his full height as he turned and strode away, commanding the room without a backward glance. Adrian watched him go, the man’s presence lingering like a shadow even after he disappeared into the crowd. Now,what should I—

His thoughts were cut short as his stomach betrayed him with a loud, insistent growl. Adrian froze, mortified. Oh, great. Perfect timing.

“Uh… is there food around here?” he mumbled, doing his best to sound casual despite the flush creeping up his neck.

Natasha turned to face him. The smirk that spread across her face could have melted ice, and not in a comforting way. “You didn’t eat before we left, did you?”

“Forgot. And now I’m starving.”

“Of course you forgot.”

Natasha pointed toward the far side of the room, where a grand banquet table stretched under the glow of gilded chandeliers. Plates piled high with roasted meats, fragrant breads, and colorful displays of vegetables filled the space, their aromas mingling in a tantalizing fashion. “Luckily for you, there's plenty of food to spare here."

Adrian’s gaze followed her gesture, his stomach twisting in a pang of hunger that was impossible to ignore. That looks incredible. Almost makes up for the humiliation earlier.

“Come on,” Natasha urged as she turned around. “I’ll take you there.”

Natasha led Adrian to the promised land, and the moment he reached the buffet, his eyes swept across the array of food. Without hesitation, he grabbed a plate and got to work.

He heaped his plate with reckless abandon: a generous portion of chicken, a mound of potatoes, and two skewers laden with bell peppers, zucchini, and onions that gleamed with oil. In contrast, Natasha selected her portions with an almost theatrical precision. She plucked a few small items onto her plate, each addition carefully considered.

"Are you planning to eat all that?" Natasha asked.

Adrian grinned mid-bite, cheeks stuffed with food. "Noth wathin’ thish chanth," he replied through a muffled mouthful, the words barely intelligible.

Natasha pressed two fingers to her temple and sighed. “Adrian. Swallow first please."

He gulped audibly, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he said, though the sheepish smile that followed betrayed no real remorse. “Guess I got a bit… overeager.”

“You don’t say,” Natasha said with a slight grin.

Then, she gestured to a tray piled with perfectly shaped pastries. “At the very least, save some room for these. They’re one of the few things these people actually manage to get right.”

Adrian dutifully added two pastries to his already overflowing plate, stealing a quick glance at her. “You’ve been to a lot of these things?”

“Enough to know the drill. Stick to the food, avoid eye contact with anyone too eager."

"That seems… blunt."

"I mean, half the people want to tell you their life stories, and the other half are worse.”

“Worse?”

“Business proposals,” Natasha replied flatly, rolling her eyes. “Everyone talks to me hoping I’ll pass on their genius ideas to Daddy. They think if they impress me, they’ll get an audience with him.”

“And do they?”

“Obviously not, duh. Anyway, do you want to move away from here? People are starting to shoot one too many glances our way."

Adrian looked around and noticed that, indeed, there were quite a few people looking. Though most were clearly more interested in Natasha. Well, I'm not one to enjoy being stared at either.

"Sure, let's go find a quieter spot."

The two walked away from the banquet and found a quieter area away from the crowd, they settled into a pair of plush chairs near a low table. Immediately after, Adrian set to work on his meal, savoring every bite with an enthusiasm that bordered on ravenous.

Natasha ate much slower, her fork daintily poised as she sampled each item with practiced ease. Every now and then, she gestured toward his plate with a casual, “That’s good, too,” or “You’ll regret skipping the glazed ham.”

As Adrian devoured the roasted chicken, Natasha tilted her head, watching him with a spark of amusement in her eyes. “You know, I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned something important.”

Adrian paused mid-bite, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about my mother yet. Thought you would've asked a long time ago."

Adrian blinked, scrambling for a response. Honestly, I didn't really think about a Mrs. Whitewynn at all. But if I just say that, I'll look quite stupid, so it's time for plan B.

“I... didn’t think it was my place to ask,” Adrian said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

Natasha chuckled softly, shaking her head as she set her own fork down. “It’s fine, really. I just figured you’d be curious. Most people are.”

“I mean, I was curious... but it felt like one of those things you don’t bring up unless the other person does first.”

“You’re too polite for your own good. You see, I never got the chance to meet her, since... well, you know.”

Adrian nodded slowly. “It's alright, you don’t have to say any more if you're not comfortable."

The lighthearted air between them shifted for a brief moment, replaced by something more solemn. Natasha’s smirk faded, replaced by a faint smile. “That's thoughtful of you, Adrian, I respect that."

Adrian shrugged, unsure of how to respond. He returned to his food, grateful for the distraction it provided. She’s probably been through a lot. But she doesn’t need me prying into it.

Natasha resumed eating as well, her sharp demeanor softening slightly. For the first time that evening, the room felt a little less overwhelming to Adrian. The buzz of the crowd and the grandeur of the venue faded into the background, leaving just the two of them at their small table,

"You know,” Natasha said after a while, “those pastries are going to change your life. Just wait.”

Adrian smirked and reached for one. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Adrian had just finished the last bite of the pastry Natasha recommended when a voice cut through the low hum of chatter around them. “Well, well, Natasha. What are you doing with a lowlife?”

Adrian turned as he took in the speaker. The boy looked to be a few years older than him, dressed in an outfit so over-the-top it was borderline comical.

His crimson jacket was embroidered with gold thread, and his polished boots shone as if buffed moments before. His blond hair was slicked back unnaturally, and a smug grin tugged at his lips.

Natasha sighed, leaning back in her chair with an air of weary annoyance. “Remus, what do you want?”

Adrian cleared his throat, keeping his tone polite. “Can we help you?”

Remus’s gaze shifted to Adrian, his smirk widening. “You can help by leaving, trash."

Before Adrian could respond, Natasha sat up straighter and fixed Remus with a sharp glare. “Just leave us alone, Remus, I'm not in the mood for your games."

Remus let out a chuckle. “Oh, come now, Natasha. Why waste your time here? The dance starts in an hour, and I’d be delighted to have you as my partner.”

Adrian rubbed his temple. Great. How am I supposed to deal with this guy without causing a scene?

But before Adrian could think of anything useful, Natasha let out a mischievous grin before reaching out to grab his hand. “That’s sweet of you, Remus, but Adrian here is already my dance partner for tonight.”

Adrian blinked, looking up at her in confusion. “I—what?”

“You’re joking, him? There’s no chance he can dance.”

“Oh, Remus, I’m certain Adrian is a better dancer than you could ever hope to be.”

Adrian’s stomach sank. What is she doing? He looked between the two of them, suddenly feeling like a pawn in whatever power game was unfolding.

Remus’s face flushed red, his mouth opening to retort, but a deep voice called out from across the room. “Remus! You get back over here this instant!"

The boy’s jaw tightened as he turned toward the voice. “Lucky,” he muttered to Adrian, his glare promising retribution, before stalking off toward what Adrian assumed was his father.

As soon as Remus was out of earshot, Adrian looked at Natasha. “I have no idea how to dance.”

Natasha laughed softly, taking her seat again and reaching for another pastry. “Relax, there was no chance that I'd ever dance with that smug bastard. You’re a much better alternative.”

“Better alternative? I don’t even know the first thing about dancing, I’ll just embarrass us both out there.”

“Don’t worry so much. It’s not as complicated as you think. Just follow my lead.”

Adrian groaned, running a hand through his hair. This night just keeps getting better and better. “You’re really not going to let me out of this, are you?”

“Not a chance."

Adrian sighed. I’ll just have to figure it out. How hard can it be?