The music ended with a flourish, and Grim completed the dance with a formal bow to Princess Liona. She curtseyed in return, her eyes still sparkling with excitement. Applause erupted throughout the ballroom, some genuine, some merely polite.
"I look forward to our next dance, Lord Ambrose," Liona said formally, though her smile held a private meaning only Grim understood.
"As do I, Your Highness," Grim replied with a small smile of his own.
As Liona returned to her mother's side on the imperial dais, Grim's eyes immediately found Lord Terras. The portly nobleman stood with his sons, his face still flushed with anger. Without hesitation, Grim began making his way through the crowd toward him.
"Grim," Rowan's voice came from behind as his father caught up to him. "Whatever you're planning—"
"I'm collecting on a debt," Grim said without slowing. "Nothing more."
Rowan matched his pace, clearly unwilling to let his son face Terras alone. "A public confrontation is unwise."
"A public wager deserves a public collection," Grim countered as they approached Lord Terras and his sons.
Terras saw them coming and visibly stiffened. Several nearby nobles, sensing drama, subtly moved closer to listen.
"Lord Terras," Grim said loudly enough to be heard by those around them. "I believe we had an arrangement."
Terras's face darkened. "I don't know what you're talking about, boy."
"Really?" Lady Renara's smooth voice joined the conversation as she appeared at Grim's side. "My memory is quite clear on the matter. You wagered one of your businesses against young Lord Ambrose's... servitude, was it? Regarding the princess's first dance."
More heads turned their way, and the circle of onlookers grew.
"A passing comment, nothing more," Terras said dismissively. "Surely no one took it seriously."
"You seemed quite serious when you made the bet," Grim replied. "As were the witnesses present."
Lord Terras puffed up, looking down at Grim with disdain. "You expect me to hand over a business I've spent decades building to a five-year-old child because of some frivolous conversation?"
"I expect you to honor your word," Grim said, his voice hardening. "Unless the great Lord Terras admits that his word means nothing."
Whispers rippled through the growing audience. In noble circles, one's word was supposedly sacrosanct. To publicly deny a sworn agreement was tantamount to declaring oneself dishonorable.
"This is absurd," Terras sputtered. "My comment was clearly in jest. Anyone with sense would know I wouldn't seriously wager something of such value."
"And yet you were happy to accept my son's servitude as your prize had you won," Rowan noted coldly. "That strikes me as a rather serious proposition."
"The boy's too young to make binding agreements anyway," Terras countered, looking to his fellow nobles for support. "The wager was invalid from the start."
"How convenient," Lady Renara commented. "You find it invalid only after losing."
Grim stepped closer to Terras, his young face set in a hard expression that seemed too mature for his years. "You're a coward and a liar, Lord Terras. You made a bet thinking you couldn't lose, and now you refuse to pay. What would your business partners think if they knew you don't honor your agreements?"
Terras's face flushed deeper. "Watch your tongue, boy, or—"
"Or what?" Grim challenged. "You'll make another empty threat? Another worthless promise? Your word clearly means nothing."
The assembled nobles were now openly watching the confrontation. Some seemed amused by Terras's discomfort, others uncomfortable at the public nature of the dispute.
"I will not be spoken to this way by a child!" Terras hissed. "Especially not one from a disgraced house that only recently crawled back from exile."
"At least my house has honor," Grim shot back. "What does yours have besides empty boasts and broken promises? Tell me, do your business associates know that you don't pay your debts? Or is that a special surprise you save for children you think can't fight back?"
Verin Terras stepped forward, fists clenched. "You little—"
"Enough," Rowan said, his hand moving to where his sword would normally be. "Your son would be wise to step back, Terras."
The tension in the air was palpable. Even the music seemed to have quieted, though Grim couldn't tell if the musicians had actually stopped playing or if the confrontation had simply drowned out the sound.
"This display is beneath both your houses," Lady Renara said smoothly, though her eyes glinted with amusement. "Perhaps a compromise is in order."
"There will be no compromise," Terras declared. "I made no binding wager, and I owe this boy nothing."
"Then perhaps you should stop making wagers you have no intention of honoring," Grim said loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Let all the nobles of the empire know that Lord Terras's word is worthless, his promises empty, and his honor non-existent."
Gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd. Such a public declaration was scandalous, even for a child.
Terras's face contorted with rage. "You'll regret this, boy. Mark my words. Your little victory tonight will cost you dearly in the end."
Grim met his gaze unflinchingly. "More empty threats from an empty man. How predictable."
For a moment, it seemed Terras might actually strike Grim. His hand twitched at his side, and his sons tensed, ready to back their father. Rowan shifted slightly, positioning himself to intervene if necessary.
The confrontation balanced on a knife's edge—until the sound of deliberate footsteps approaching from behind Terras caught everyone's attention.
The crowd parted, and all eyes turned to see who was joining the increasingly volatile situation.
The voice said suddenly "if a wager was made, a wager must be honored. To go back in ones word is unwise."
Standing there was the elderly man with the white ponytail and scar on his face. His presence commanded immediate attention, a sense of authority radiating from him that made even Lord Terras hesitate.
"And who might you be to interfere in matters that don't concern you?" Terras demanded, though his voice lacked its previous confidence.