Chapter 18 - victory and vibes
Liam straightened, wine goblet dangling in his hand, as the princess strode in—tall, regal, her gold-threaded gown catching the torchlight. Behind her marched Lysandra, Selene, and Erynn, flanked by a handful of soldiers who smiled from ear to ear. The crowd parted like water, guards barking orders to clear a path, and they headed straight for the king's raised dais.
Liam's pulse kicked up, eyes locked on the trio—Lysandra's silver hair gleaming, Selene's tail flicking, Erynn bouncing with every step.
They hit the dais and dropped to one knee, heads bowed. The princess rose first, stepping to the king's side, her expression cool but proud. The king stood, beard bristling, and raised a hand. "Hero!" he called, voice booming over the hall. "Come, address our warriors."
Liam blinked, caught off-guard, then set his goblet down and walked over. The crowd's eyes bored into him, but he kept his focus on the trio as he climbed the dais. Lysandra's silver gaze flicked up, Selene smirked faintly, and Erynn grinned like a kid with a secret. He cleared his throat, standing beside the king, and faced the warriors still kneeling.
"Uh—welcome back," he started, voice rough but steady. "You kicked ass out there at Mytheris, and we're glad you're home. To victory!" He snagged a cup from the king's table, raising it high. The hall roared back with cheers, stomping, cups clanging and the warriors stood, thumping their chests with their fists. Liam downed his wine, the burn hitting his throat, and grinned. "Not bad."
The king clapped his shoulder, signaling the main event. "Let the celebration begin!" he bellowed, and the doors burst open again.
A troupe of dancers swept in—lithe figures in swirling silks, bells jangling at their wrists and ankles. Music erupted, drums pounding, lutes wailing, and the crowd went wild, whooping as the dancers spun and leaped, skirts flaring to show flashes of thigh.
Liam stepped back, leaning against the dais railing, watching the chaos unfold—nobles clapping, kids scrambling for a better view, wine sloshing everywhere.
The king sidled up, voice low. "Fine speech, lad. A true hero's address."
Liam chuckled, rubbing his neck. "Wasn't much—just words."
But his mind wasn't on the praise. It was on them—Lysandra, Selene, Erynn, now mingling below with the princess and soldiers. Were they glad to see him? Or was it weird as hell after that night—sweaty, screaming, tangled in each other? He felt a knot twist in his gut, awkwardness creeping in. How do you just walk up after that? "Hey, nice battle, also remember when we fucked 'til dawn?" His lips twitched, half a smirk, half a grimace.
Before he could overthink it, Erynn broke free from the group, charging him like a hurricane. "Hero!" she yelled, launching herself at him. She hit hard, arms wrapping his neck, legs half-off the ground, and he stumbled back, barely catching his balance as the dais creaked.
"Shit—Erynn!" he laughed, grabbing her waist to steady them. Her golden hair was a mess, her armor scratched but gleaming, and her grin was pure trouble.
"I've missed you so much!" she squealed, then paused, dropping to her feet. She grabbed his arm, squeezing his bicep. "Whoa, look at this—more muscle, huh?"
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"Kinda," Liam said, flexing a little, his grin widening. Three days of push-ups paid off—she noticed. His chest puffed, just a bit.
Lysandra approached, her silver eyes sharp, armor clanking softly. "Erynn, get down," she snapped, voice cool but edged. "What will people think, you climbing him like a tree?"
Erynn pouted, still gripping his arm. "Oh, come on, Lys, he's our Hero! Let me have fun!"
"Fun's one thing," Lysandra shot back, folding her arms. "Decorum's another."
Selene sauntered up, cutting through their bickering, her crimson gaze glinting as her tail swished. "Liam," she purred, ignoring the spat. "How've you been holding up?"
"Okay," he said, shrugging, his voice steady despite the flutter in his gut. "You know, surviving. You?"
"Better now," she replied, a smirk tugging her lips, but it was quick, casual—like that night never happened. Lysandra and Erynn kept sniping—something about dignity and armor polish—and Liam's brow quirked. Back to normal, huh? No feral growls, no dirty whispers, just... them. Maybe they were shy, playing it cool in front of the crowd. He could work with that. Give it time, get 'em home, and—fuck—he couldn't wait to test out that two-inch upgrade. Monster's ready, he thought, a sly grin flickering.
The dancers spun faster, silks a blur, and the hall's cheers swelled, drowning out Erynn and Lysandra's back-and-forth. Liam leaned against the railing again, watching them—Erynn still clinging to his arm, Lysandra scolding, Selene smirking like she knew his every thought. Awkward or not, they were back, and that knot in his stomach loosened. Three days of waiting, and now here they were—battle-worn, gorgeous, his. He'd figure out the approach later—tonight, maybe, when the wine flowed and the crowd thinned.
For now, he let Erynn tug him closer, her chatter washing over him—something about a dragon at Mytheris, who cared. Lysandra sighed, giving up, and Selene's tail brushed his leg, deliberate but subtle. Shy my ass, he thought, grinning wider. They were playing it safe, sure, but that heat was still there, simmering. He could feel it. Just had to wait 'til they ditched the palace for somewhere private—then he'd see how normal they stayed.