Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 262: Dance at the Banquet

Reuben’s gaze flickered at the pair dancing regally, and he was filled with rage. His fists clenched. He only loosened up when Amielle tugged at his sleeves.

He wanted to dance with Lara but wouldn’t it be an insult if he danced with a girl whom his elder brother had already danced with?

"Let us greet the guests, My Prince. This is your night after all." Lady Amielle said in an overly sweet voice. But if one would look closely, her fingernails dug at the flesh of her palms as she furtively cast a glance at Lara dancing at the center of the hall.

The crown prince forced his gaze away from the dancing couple. He looked at Lady Amielle, his gaze gentle, and let her accompany him around the hall to mingle with the guests.

Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Alaric’s and Lara’s movements were in synch, and it felt as if the rest of the hall had vanished for a few stolen minutes. Since last night, Lara felt that Alaric’s treatment of her had changed. He was treating her like he liked her.

Lara’s thoughts drifted to another man, the captain she met when they were on a mission, the one bitten by the snake—the one she saved. She had crushes before. Even if she was cold and aloof, she was still a normal young lady whose heart fluttered at the sight of handsome men, not just good-looking but also heroes.

But fate did not favor them. When her father learned that she had fallen in love with the captain, the man was reassigned to the remote southern tip of Azurverda, and their paths never crossed again until she transmigrated.

Alaric coughed when he noticed that Lara was zoning out. "Is the dance boring you?"

Lara smiled awkwardly. The basse dance was indeed boring. She felt that she could fall asleep while dancing.

"Want me to spice it a bit?" Lara asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before Alaric could say anything, Lara started her graceful, flowing movements. Her footwork was precise as she circled Prince Alaric. The music was slow, and Lara was able to match it perfectly. She was doing a ballet-like dance without the tip-toe footwork, but her graceful hand and leg movements were enough to shock the audience.

Prince Alaric did not know what to do, so he stepped aside to give the floor to Lara. His gaze lingered on the string of pearls that adorned her slender neck, the gift he had given her last night. The gems gave off a pale hue of blue, a reflection of the sheen of her gown.

Alaric’s gaze drifted to Reuben. The crown on his head was ostentatious. Obviously, he wanted the world to know he was the chosen heir.

That crown was rightfully his by birthright. But it did not matter to him. What mattered now was the woman dancing in front of him. The same woman Reuben looked at not just with keen interest, but with a look of a predator on its prey.

Alaric clenched his fists. Then, a blur of light blue passed before him, and he suddenly found himself back on the dance floor. Lara skillfully and gracefully moved around him, telling a story with her movements and facial expressions.

A story of a prince turned into a statue by a wicked witch. Fortunately, a fairy chanced upon him and broke the spell.

Toward the end of the dance, Lara spun around and ended in front of Alaric. Alaric’s eyes held hers like an anchor in the swell of music and murmured judgment. When the final note of the dance faded, they stilled at the center of the marble floor.

"Well played," Lara murmured as she dipped in a curtsy.

Alaric offered a slight smile. "I didn’t do much."

The dance and the music had long ended, but silence continued to hang in the air. Everyone seemed to be caught in a trance.

What kind of dance was that?

Lady Amielle glared at Lara. If looks could kill, Lara could have died ten times over.

Mira was consumed with jealousy. How could a woman who stayed in the mountains with a hermit learned to dance like that?

Amelia, who was glued to Gideon, looked at Lara with envy. The gap between her and Lara in terms of height, appearance, and skills had grown notches higher and she hated it.

Alaric led Lara back to her designated seat, but a figure stepped into their path before they reached it.

Reuben.

His expression was unreadable now—still smiling, but something colder gleamed beneath it.

"Your dance was extraordinary, Lara," he said, tone mild. "Better than I would have expected." Then, with a flick of his gaze to Alaric, he added, "And better than some people’s positions allow."

"Was there something you wanted, Your Highness?" Lara asked trying to break the tension between the two.

Reuben turned to her, lowering his voice so only the three of them could hear.

"I’d like to speak with you privately after the banquet."

Alaric bristled beside her.

"Your Highness," she said with measured calm, "I know you are busy and might not have the time—"

"If it is about, you, I will have time." He cut her, then he stepped away into the crowd, his cloak trailing behind like a shadow.

"She will not have the time to speak with you. Remember, she is my date tonight?"

Reuben paused, then slowly turned around. "Let us see, brother." He said, his voice laced with threats.

Alaric didn’t react right away.

Not until Reuben vanished into the crowd. Not until Lara turned to him, her brow furrowed, her mouth tight with thought.

"Don’t go," Alaric said finally.

Lara looked up, startled.

"To speak with him, I mean. Alone. Take Asael with you, or your mother."

She studied him in silence. "You don’t trust me?"

"I trust you," he said, a little too fast. "It’s him I don’t."

Her expression softened—but only slightly. "He’s still the crown prince. Defying him would put my family in a precarious situation."

Alaric looked away. He hated this—hated the twist in his gut that whispered he wasn’t powerful enough to protect her and her family. Not yet.

"You’re right," he said quietly. "Be careful, then."

A voice rang out suddenly across the hall—loud, formal, cutting through the music like a blade.

"Attention. By order of His Majesty the King, all noble representatives are to make their way to the east wing. A matter of urgent diplomatic concern has arisen. The banquet will resume shortly."