NTR: King gets Cucked-Chapter 3: Dinner in the Great Hall

After drying off, Zyran led Althea and Nyra toward the dining hall.

Drucila was already waiting for them, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as she lounged elegantly on a velvet chair. Her ruby-red eyes gleamed beneath the flickering candlelight. Her long legs were crossed lazily beneath the table, and the slit of her crimson dress exposed the pale skin of her thigh.

"You took your time," Drucila purred, her gaze sharp as it trailed over Althea and Nyra before landing on Zyran. Her smirk deepened. "Enjoying yourself?"

Zyran sat beside her, one arm resting casually along the back of her chair. Drucila's eyes flicked toward his hand, her smile twitching at the corners.

The dinner was lavish — roasted pheasant, spiced potatoes, honey-glazed vegetables, and red wine from the vineyards of Nectaris. Zyran sat at the head of the table, flanked by Althea and Nyra, with Drucila seated across from them.

Althea's hand rested on his thigh beneath the table, her long fingers stroking along the muscle there. Nyra sat quietly beside her, occasionally glancing toward Zyran beneath lowered lashes.

Drucila, gracefully cutting through the pheasant with slow, deliberate movements. Her back was perfectly straight, her posture poised and elegant. She remained quiet, her ruby-red eyes flicking between Zyran and his wives with thinly veiled scrutiny.

"You're quiet tonight," Zyran commented, cutting through the silence.

Drucila's red eyes flicked toward him beneath the dark curtain of her lashes. A dangerous smile curled at the corners of her mouth.

"Am I?" she said lazily. She speared a piece of pheasant with her fork and slipped it between her lips, chewing slowly. "Perhaps I'm just... observing."

Althea's hand tensed slightly on Zyran's thigh, but she said nothing. Nyra kept her gaze lowered, clearly sensing the tension.

Zyran's eyes narrowed slightly, but Drucila's expression remained perfectly composed — polite, even. If there was something hidden beneath her words, she gave nothing away.

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Just as Zyran finished his glass of wine, a servant approached, bowing deeply.

"Your Majesty," the servant said, voice low and measured. "Your presence is requested by the royal advisors. They wish to speak with you immediately."

Zyran's jaw tightened. He could feel Althea's and Nyra's eyes on him as he rose from his chair.

"I suppose I shouldn't keep them waiting," Zyran said.

Althea's hand brushed his as he stood. "I will be waiting," she whispered.

Zyran smiled faintly and kissed her forehead before turning toward the door.

Just as he reached the threshold, Drucila's soft voice followed him.

"Zyran," she called.

He glanced back, finding her watching him with narrowed eyes. The smirk was gone from her lips — in its place, a faint shadow of unease.

"Be careful," Drucila said quietly.

Zyran's brow furrowed slightly, but he gave her a small nod before disappearing through the door.

Behind him, Drucila's lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes darkened beneath her silver fringe.

And somewhere in the shadows... someone was watching.