Page 163 of Owned

I forced myself to stand still.

Lucian’s gaze swept over us, lingering for just a moment before he continued.

“A celebration of strength and loyalty, something that is long overdue.”

“Fucking unbelievable,” Bastian muttered.

He and Valen exchanged urgent looks.

We had expected an announcement, but not so soon.

Not with such finality.

The window of time for us to act was shrinking fast—

Three days. We didn’t have much time.

Applause rippled through the room and rose in volume as Lucian moved among his guests with the grace of a predator. He offered charming smiles and empty reassurances, but left a trail of whispers in his wake.

“Where is the bride?” someone called out. “We must congratulate her—”

Lucian’s laughter was light and indulgent. “My dear Avril is preoccupied with the wedding plans,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “You understand, Janna. Fittings for her gown—the flowers—”

More applause followed his words, and my stomach churned.

“We have to talk to her,” Valen said, his voice almost lost in the din of forced laughter and stilted conversation. “Tonight.”

I watched Lucian work the room, but more importantly, I saw how the guests flinched at his approach even as they feigned delight at being singled out for a conversation.

“I don’t think that’s going to be possible,” I said and took a long swig of whiskey. “Not after this little show.”

Lucian lingered over each interaction, making sure that everyone saw how at ease he was. As though nothing had happened.

As though Avrilhadn’tbeen stolen and tortured—as though the Councilhadn’trebelled against him in the most vile way possible.

He clasped a loyalist’s shoulder with false camaraderie and leaned in to murmur something in the man’s ear. I saw the slight tremor in the man’s hand as he nodded, a smile frozen on his lips.

“Do you think he’s lying?” Valen asked. “Do you think she’s really planning this wedding?”

Lucian’s eyes caught mine from across the room, and I forced myself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t know,” I said.

I could imagine how he’d told her.

I could picture her pale face and the way she might have reacted.

I hated him for that. For everything.

Bastian slammed his empty glass down on the table beside us. “I can’t believe he’s going through with it.”

“I can.”

I turned my attention back to Lucian as though studying his movements would give me the answers I needed.

The surrounding guests wore masks of civility, but the fear was unmistakable.

They didn’t know where their loyalties should lie, not with the rumors of the Black Council’s failed rebellion.

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