NTR: King gets Cucked-Chapter 19: The Festival Feast

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As the final notes of the dance faded into the grand hall, the atmosphere shifted from revelry to indulgence. Servants glided across the room, carrying silver trays laden with the finest delicacies Draconia had to offer. The scent of roasted meats and spiced wine filled the air, stirring hunger in the gathered nobles. Candles flickered atop the grand feast table, their glow casting golden light on polished goblets and delicate porcelain dishes.

The first course was a rich pheasant stew, slow-cooked with aromatic herbs, served alongside freshly baked bread glistening with butter. Platters of exotic seafood—succulent lobster tails drizzled with lemon butter, oysters resting in their pearlescent shells, and delicate slices of smoked salmon—lined the center of the table. A whole deer, expertly grilled and seasoned with wild rosemary and garlic, took center stage, its skin crisp and golden. Bowls of honeyed figs, roasted nuts, and sugared plums were arranged artfully, promising a sweet contrast to the savory feast. Goblets were filled with the deepest red wines, aged to perfection, their rich aroma promising warmth with every sip.

Zyran took his seat at the head of the table, exuding quiet authority. Althea sat to his right, resplendent in her crimson gown, while Nyra was to his left, her sapphire dress shimmering under the candlelight.

"Will Drucila be attending the dinner?" Zyran asked Althea, his voice laced with concern.

Althea shook her head slightly, offering a small sigh. "No, she has requested her meal be sent to her chambers. She does not wish to appear in public."

Zyran exhaled, frustration briefly flashing across his face, but he quickly masked it. "I see." Turning to Nyra, he offered a warm smile, engaging her in light conversation.

Just then, a voice interrupted. "Good evening, my lady."

Althea's breath hitched as Lord Karlos took the vacant seat beside her. His smile was polished, yet there was an undeniable glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Lord Karlos," she acknowledged, her tone composed, though a flicker of anxiety darkened her gaze.

Servants moved efficiently, serving the dishes and filling goblets anew. Music played softly in the background, blending with the hum of noble conversations. Laughter echoed occasionally from different corners of the hall, the energy of the festival lingering in the air.

As Althea reached for her goblet, she suddenly felt it—an unmistakable touch. Underneath the table, Karlos's hand had slid beneath the slit of her gown, his fingers ghosting over the bare skin of her thigh.

Her heart leapt into her throat. A sharp inhale betrayed her surprise, and she turned to him, eyes wide, a mixture of fear and anger flashing within them. "What are you doing?" she hissed in a hushed voice, careful to keep her expression neutral as not to alert those around them.

Karlos leaned in ever so slightly, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "How can I resist, my queen, when you sit beside me, tempting me so?"

Althea shuddered as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She gritted her teeth, her breath unsteady. "Stop this," she pleaded under her breath, but there was no conviction in her voice.

Karlos's smirk widened as he leaned in, his voice a sultry whisper. "Your body betrays you, Althea. I can feel the heat of your skin... the way your breath hitches." His hand traveled higher, his fingers grazing the damp fabric of her panties.

Althea's entire body stiffened. A scarlet flush crept up her neck, her pulse hammering against her throat. She squeezed her thighs together in a futile attempt to halt his exploration, but he was relentless.

"You're soaked," he murmured, his fingers pressing gently against the wet spot. "Do you know how intoxicating that is? How it makes me want to claim you right here, in front of your king?"

She turned her face away, biting her lower lip to stifle a whimper. "Please," she whispered, a desperate plea that only made Karlos's fingers linger longer.

Just as he began to push aside the fabric of her panties, the sound of clinking glass shattered the moment.

Zyran stood at the head of the table, lifting his goblet. The hall quieted, all eyes turning to him. Althea exhaled sharply, relief and frustration warring within her. Karlos withdrew his hand leisurely, as if nothing had transpired, but his knowing smirk sent shivers down her spine.

One by one, nobles rose to offer their toasts.

"To King Zyran, may his reign bring prosperity and strength to Draconia!" one noble declared.

"To a bountiful harvest and a kingdom that thrives under its rightful ruler!" another added.

Nyra's eyes caught Althea's. The blue-green depths held an unspoken question, a quiet suspicion. Althea quickly averted her gaze, her fingers tightening around the stem of her goblet. Nyra's stare lingered for a moment longer before she returned her attention to the toasts, but Althea knew—Nyra was becoming certain that something was amiss.

As the final toast was made, Zyran raised his goblet high. "To Draconia, to its people, and to a future unshaken by adversity!"

The hall erupted in cheers as everyone drank in unison, marking the official end of the festival.

Yet as the nobles conversed and laughter filled the space, Althea remained still, her pulse still erratic from the illicit touch beneath the table. Karlos merely reclined in his chair, savoring his wine, his smirk never fading.

And Althea knew—this was only the beginning.