[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 198: Greeting the King of Saha

Chapter 198: Chapter 198: Greeting the King of Saha

The sunlight off the east terrace caught on silk and gemstone as two figures emerged from the manor’s opposite wing, their steps perfectly in sync despite the subtle edge of rivalry in their bearing.

Cressida was draped in dove‑gray charmeuse, her gown cut clean and severe, softened only by the pale shimmer of pearls along her throat. Her dark hair was swept into a twist that spoke of unshakable control, every strand in place, her expression a mask of serene power.

Serathine, by contrast, cut a bolder line: deep emerald satin with a dramatic shoulder sweep, her jewelry sharp with art‑deco brilliance that threw spears of sunlight with every step. Her red hair was styled in sculpted waves that caught the light, and her smile already played at the edges like she knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

They reached the top of the terrace together, their gazes briefly locking like blades meeting in a silent duel, before both turned outward toward the drive.

Lucas caught them in his periphery and had to bite back a smile. They looked like they’d coordinated only to outdo each other. Cressida inclined her head faintly in Trevor’s direction, her pale eyes briefly scanning Lucas with that cool approval she so rarely gave. Serathine, ever the bold one, let her smile deepen by a fraction, her sharp gaze sweeping over Lucas’s slate‑gray jacket and lingering just long enough to acknowledge his subtlety.

"You’re both early," Trevor murmured under his breath, pitched only for Lucas to hear.

"Of course they are," Lucas replied softly, keeping his own gaze fixed on the sweeping gravel drive. "Wouldn’t want to miss the show."

And then the distant hum of engines deepened, the motorcade sliding into view around the curve of the trees. The black sedan at the head moved with deliberate ease, slowing as it approached the final stretch of gravel that cut through the manicured lawn.

Inside, Dax lounged with the kind of effortlessness that only came from someone who had been born into power and polished it into something almost charming. His jacket was cut sharp in midnight blue, his tie was touched loosely, and his violet eyes flicked lazily over the approach.

But as the manor’s stone façade rose into view, sunlight glinting off the tall windows and the faint silhouette of waiting figures on the terrace, a shiver danced unexpectedly down his spine.

He straightened slightly in his seat, adjusting his cuffs, trying to ignore the sudden prickle at the base of his neck. It wasn’t fear, Dax wasn’t the type, but a flicker of instinct, that subtle tug that told him he was about to step into something far more intricate than a simple visit.

On the terrace, Lucas caught the glint of the car’s roof as it rounded the final bend. He felt Trevor’s hand shift slightly at his back. Cressida and Serathine both lifted their chins fractionally, mirroring one another like twin generals at a parade.

And as the sedan rolled to a halt below the steps, Lucas allowed himself a private, razor‑thin smile.

Dax had no idea.

Not yet. NovelFire

—

The sedan’s door clicked open with practiced precision, and a hush rippled through the gathered staff as King Dax of Saha stepped out into the sunlight.

He moved with that effortless grace only a man born to a throne could have, his midnight‑blue jacket falling perfectly against his frame as though tailored by the morning breeze itself. A simple silver signet at his hand caught the light, Saha’s crest gleaming just enough to remind everyone watching exactly who he was.

The reporters, kept at a measured distance behind the low iron barriers, immediately came alive. The rapid‑fire staccato of camera shutters filled the air, punctuated by soft calls of Your Majesty! and Over here, please! Their lenses drank in every angle of the King: the confident stride, the faint smirk curving his mouth as he angled his head just enough to give them what they wanted.

On the terrace above, Trevor and Lucas waited side by side, with Serathine and Cressida forming an unintentional, but perfectly poised, frame on either side of them.

Dax ascended the terrace steps with the kind of composure only sharpened by years of rule, his violet gaze catching on Trevor first. The corner of his mouth tilted into something that held genuine warmth beneath the formality.

"Trevor," Dax said, extending a hand, his voice carrying easily over the low murmur of the press. "You look far too comfortable for a man expecting royalty to drop by unannounced."

"Your Majesty," Trevor returned smoothly, clasping his hand in a firm shake. The exchange was brief but rich with old familiarity, the kind that cameras would seize on with delight.

Lucas stepped forward, green eyes catching the light. He offered a faint bow of his head, his voice calm and composed. "Your Majesty, welcome to Fitzgeralt Manor."

Dax turned toward him, that easy smile softening just slightly. "Grand Duchess," he replied, and though the title carried weight, his tone made it feel almost like an inside joke between them. "You’re as dangerously composed as ever. Tell me, do I still owe you pastries for that last shipment?"

Lucas’s lips curved, faint amusement flickering. "Several dozen, at least. I keep a ledger."

The press caught it all, the smiles, the exchange of pleasantries, the subtle play of power beneath the polished surface. And then, with the staff moving smoothly to guide them indoors, the formal greeting dissolved into quieter steps through the manor’s cool halls, shutting out the camera shutters and the distant hum of the reporters. Correct content is on NovelFire.

—

Private Dining Room, Fitzgeralt Manor

The dining room was bright with early afternoon sun, a long table laid simply yet elegantly: crystal glasses catching the light, porcelain plates edged in silver, the scent of rosemary and roasted vegetables drifting from behind the service doors.

Dax shed his jacket over the back of his chair before lowering himself into it, every movement smooth, deliberate, and kingly without being ostentatious. He let his gaze sweep the table, Trevor opposite him, regal in his dark violet regalia, Lucas at his side, elegant in slate gray, and across from them Serathine in bold crimson and Cressida in cool jade. Together they looked less like hosts and more like a council plotting quietly behind closed doors.

Dax picked up his glass, swirling the pale wine thoughtfully. "It’s been too long since I last stepped foot in this manor," he said, tone light, conversational. "I half expected to be greeted by battalions... or perhaps lions."

Trevor’s brow arched, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. "We considered it," he drawled, "but Serathine and Cressida proved far more effective."

Lucas stifled a laugh against the rim of his glass, green eyes bright with hidden amusement as Cressida tilted her head with feigned innocence and Serathine let a sharp little smile flash like a blade.

Dax chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head as he set his glass down. "I see nothing here has changed," he said, but his eyes lingered on Lucas for a heartbeat longer, a look that held fondness and a flicker of curiosity. "And I see you’ve adjusted to this place better than anyone expected."

Lucas leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "I’ve learned bribery goes a long way in this family."

"Ah." Dax raised his glass again, violet eyes warm with humor. "Then I hope the pastries I brought survive lunch."