The Cursed Alpha Prince's Replacement Bride-Chapter 33: The Welcome Banquet (VII)

{Third Person}

King Sebastian, however, was relieved. His son had come. And more importantly, he had come without causing a scene.

Although he could clearly feel Alexander’s anger, he decided to ignore it. This was not the moment. Not tonight. No one—no one—would challenge his authority here.

At the head table, Amara felt the pressure before she fully saw him. Her thoughts, previously tangled in anger and hurt, snapped away from Lila and Torin as Alexander’s presence settled over the space.

She looked up instinctively, and there he was. Her brows pulled together slightly. ’Who angered him?’

His face was carved from stone, colder than she had ever seen it. And then realization hit her, of course, he was coming to sit beside her.

Immediately, a wave of discomfort washed over her. Then, she straightened slightly, her fingers pressing into her lap as she forced herself to remain composed.

Meanwhile, on the Human side, Lila’s eyes landed on Alexander—and for the briefest moment, she was caught off guard.

He was... Striking. Not just handsome, there was something darker, sharper about him. Dangerous. The kind of presence that demanded attention without asking for it.

Her gaze lingered just a second longer than intended before she masked it.

At last, Alexander reached the royal table. He stopped, turned slightly and offered a short, formal bow to the King and Queen. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"Your Majesty."

Without waiting for acknowledgement, he straightened and took his seat. That alone said enough. A subtle defiance. A boundary drawn.

Only then did the rest of the banquet follow suit. Everyone sat. The music resumed, the dancers continuing as if nothing had interrupted them, and servants moved in once more to serve the next course.

But the atmosphere had changed.

At the head table, Amara was painfully too aware of Alexander. The faint scent of his cologne reached her—clean, subtle, yet distinctly his. It filled the space between them in a way that made her even more conscious of his presence.

Her back straightened unconsciously, her body tense. She didn’t look at him; she couldn’t. Instead, she turned her gaze away and made a mistake.

Her eyes fell right back onto Lila and Torin. This time, there was no ambiguity or confusion.

Lila leaned slightly toward Torin, smiling. He said something that made her laugh softly. Then, without hesitation, he picked up a piece of food and placed it onto her plate. Moments later, Lila did the same for him.

Their actions seemed easy, natural, and intimate.

As if Amara hadn’t seen enough, just then, Torin lifted a green grape between his fingers and held it up to her lips.

Lila parted her lips without hesitation, and he fed it to her.

Amara’s breath caught in her throat once again. Something inside her twisted sharply, painfully, as if it were being torn apart. Her fingers clenched tightly against her dress beneath the table, the fabric wrinkling under her grip.

’When did they get together?’ Her thoughts spiralled. ’Was it after I left?’

Her chest tightened, anger and pain crashing into each other violently. She forced herself not to react, not to break, but it was getting harder by the second.

She didn’t notice this, but Alexander’s attention was on her.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed her hand tightening on her dress. Gradually, almost lazily, his gaze shifted to her face, then followed her line of sight across the banquet to the Human side.

His eyes landed precisely where hers had been—on Lila... and Torin. He watched them silently for a moment. Then, without a word, he picked up his glass of wine and took a slow sip.

His expression didn’t change, but in his mind, a question had already formed.

After the second course was cleared and the performers withdrew, the atmosphere eased—at least on the surface.

King Sebastian leaned slightly forward, turning his attention to the Human ministers seated across from him. His tone shifted into something more conversational, almost welcoming.

"Tell me," he began, "how fares your kingdom? I hear your developments have been... rapid."

One of the senior Human ministers smiled, clearly pleased. "Your Majesty, we have made significant progress in recent years. Our architects have introduced new structural designs, stronger materials, and more efficient city layouts. Even our residential districts are being transformed."

Another added quickly, "If it pleases Your Majesty, we would be honoured to send some of our best architects to assist in developing your kingdom. We believe there is much we can offer."

King Sebastian listened, his expression calm, then gave a small, measured smile. "Your offer is generous," he said, "but there is a reason our kingdoms remain different."

His gaze swept briefly across the banquet. "We welcome progress, yes, but not at the cost of tradition. It is what defines us."

The Human ministers nodded in agreement. "Of course, Your Majesty. Tradition is equally important."

Then, one of them raised his glass. "To the strength of your kingdom, then."

Glasses were lifted once more, and the toast was shared.

The moment the glasses touched the table again, the music began. This time, it was softer, but carried an underlying rhythm that felt... deliberate.

A new group of performers arrived. Young werewolf women, elegantly dressed in lighter, flowing garments designed to move with their bodies.

Their dance was different—fluid, alluring, occasionally slow, then suddenly sharp. It carried a subtle sensuality, a kind of controlled invitation woven into every step.

A mating dance.

Though no males joined them, the intent was unmistakable.

They moved across the space with confidence, sometimes circling tables, sometimes drawing closer to the guests, their eyes bold, their smiles knowing.

Laughter and quiet whispers rose among the audience as many watched with interest.

Zarek leaned back in his seat, clearly entertained. A pleased smile played on his lips as he lifted his cup again and drank, then refilled it almost immediately. His gaze lingered on the dancers, unashamed, amused.

Beside him, Julia noticed. Her eyes followed his line of sight, landing on the dancers. A flicker of discomfort passed through her expression, but she quickly masked it, lowering her gaze as if unaffected.

At the centre, one of the dancers stepped forward, breaking formation. She approached the royal table.

With grace, she bowed deeply to the King and Queen, who both smiled in approval. Encouraged, she rose and continued her performance, her movements slower now, more deliberate as she turned and made her way towards Alexander.