Caliste hugged Fleur back. However, he did not pay attention to her at all; instead, his eyes were solely focused on the man at the end of the room, sitting on his throne.
The King of the Elves, the real one, Luther Champlin.
His old friend.
One of the people who had betrayed him against all odds.
One thing was sure: he would make that bastard suffer as much as possible. He couldn't kill him just yet, but killing him was not something Caliste wanted to do. He wanted to make his life hell. He wanted to torture that son of a bitch until he begged to be killed.
Fleur noticed how tense Caliste's body was as she let go of him and looked him up and down.
"Are you okay?"
Caliste didn't reply, his gaze still focused on Luther, who had a little smirk on his face as he felt Caliste's gaze land on him.
"Mhm… so you're the one who conquered the heart of my granddaughter?" Luther muttered as he shook his head slightly.
