Chapter 187 Heading to the Gala
Chapter 187 Heading to the Gala
Jen was waiting outside. When they arrived, he opened the limousine door with the utmost simplicity. But Blanche had never been in a car like this in her entire life. Eva was going to be green with envy when she told her about it.
She ducked down to get into the limousine.
The interior immediately drew an awestruck look from her.
Everything was a soft cream white, delicately accented with ivory and champagne tones, giving the interior a warm, gentle glow despite the tinted windows. The seats were wide and deep, upholstered in such supple, pale leather that they looked almost plush. Fine stitching formed elegant patterns across the backrests, while the armrests were inlaid with perfectly polished dark wood.
Her grandfather was waiting at the back, sitting with the relaxed ease of someone accustomed to this kind of vehicle. He patted the seat beside him.
"Come on."
Blanche slipped in beside him, taking care not to crush her dress or snag her heels.
The moment she sat down, she sank several inches into the seat.
She blinked.
So this was the true meaning of the word comfort.
The backrest fitted perfectly against her back, while a soft cushion supported her lower spine. There was more than enough room for her legs, and even her voluminous dress wasn't the slightest inconvenience.
A small retractable table rested between the seats, topped with a glass surface. Nearby, a refrigerated compartment probably concealed a few drinks. Crystal glasses were neatly arranged in a holder, secured by small clasps.
The interior lighting was particularly pleasant: discreet strips of light ran along the ceiling and walls, casting a warm glow that reflected softly off the ivory surfaces.
Even the ceiling had been carefully designed.
A constellation of tiny points of light had been built into it, creating the impression that they were traveling beneath a starry sky.
Blanche absentmindedly ran her fingers over the armrest.
"This is..."
She searched for a word precise enough.
"Ridiculous."
Her grandfather burst out laughing.
"Comfortable, rather."
"I could sleep here."
"You could probably live here."
She turned toward him, suddenly interested.
"Is there a bathroom?"
"Of course."
Blanche stared at him.
"Of course?"
"You really thought we were going to cross half the city without planning for that?"
She shook her head, amused.
A few moments later, the door closed.
Kiyan joined them shortly afterward.
After greeting her grandfather, he took a seat opposite them and exchanged a few pleasantries with him about the evening ahead. Blanche discreetly watched him, still impressed by the contrast between his elegant outfit and the almost indecent luxury of the limousine's interior.
Then the limousine started moving.
The motion was so smooth that she barely felt it.
Through the tinted windows, the city lights began to drift past, transformed into long golden streaks across the glass.
Blanche leaned back comfortably.
She could get used to this.
Very easily.
"Jax didn't disturb you, I hope?"
"Not in the slightest," Kiyan replied with a smile at Blanche.
She pretended to be interested in the scenery to keep herself from laughing.
Winter, who had only asked the question to make conversation, took advantage of her distraction to study her more closely. He thought his granddaughter looked magnificent. His suit, matching her dress, highlighted her beauty with almost shameless precision.
"You're going to be the star of the evening," the old drakion assured her.
"I have no doubt about that. I have a present for you. Since you're alone, I'd rather give it to you now. It would be better if you saw it away from prying eyes," the young woman replied.
Surprised — and delighted — Winter nodded. The evening was already going far beyond his expectations.
Blanche handed him the box.
He set down his champagne flute and opened it.
What he found inside left him frozen for a full minute.
Kiyan, piqued by curiosity, waited, watching closely.
"Where did you find this?" the monarch murmured, his voice thick with emotion, without taking his eyes off the object.
"It's one of mine," Blanche revealed.
Winter looked up and frowned. He could sense the truth in her words, and yet what she was saying seemed inconceivable.
How could his granddaughter, still so innocent, have transformed into this?
It made no sense.
"How?"
"You already know me," Blanche admitted. "Year 1446. I called myself Lady Lili. I traveled back in time."
Kiyan jolted.
She could have warned him!
The revelation she had made to her father — and now to her grandfather as well... Blanche certainly had a talent for dropping time bombs when she wasn't throwing paving stones into still waters.
Winter stared at the young woman, imagining her with red eyes and black hair, then looked back at her gift.
"You traveled back in time..." he murmured. "Lili... You warned me about Sebastian. I didn't believe you. I should have."
He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes, then removed the object from its case and showed it to Kiyan, confirming what he had already suspected.
A diamond drakioness scale.
Tiny — barely a few inches long — but just as beautiful and radiant as the larger ones.
The King of the Drakions looked at the King of the Djinns and understood the truth once again.
"You knew."
Kiyan didn't even bother nodding.
"She is a diamond drakioness. That means your granddaughter is your true queen. The Queen of all Drakions."
They exchanged a silent look.
Then the old man stood so abruptly that Blanche jumped.
"Grandfather?"
He didn't answer her.
Instead, Winter did something she never would have imagined seeing him do.
He knelt before her.
Inside the limousine's hushed interior, the movement carried something solemn about it. Blanche immediately leaned forward to stop him, deeply embarrassed to see a man his age — and especially her grandfather — lowering himself before her.
"No, wait..."
Kiyan stopped her with a simple gesture.
His hand settled on her thigh, firm but calm, silently telling her to let Winter finish what he had come to do.
Blanche froze.
The pearls on her dress shifted slightly with the movement and brushed against her skin, adding an almost strangely delicate touch to the scene.
Winter, meanwhile, had already bowed his head.
With an almost religious reverence, he gently took her foot and pressed a kiss to her shoe.
Blanche was mortified.
She would rather have been anywhere else.
Yet when she looked back at him, she realized that there was nothing humiliating about the gesture.
Winter was crying.
Real tears streamed down his cheeks as he slowly straightened, trembling with emotion. His usually stern face suddenly seemed years younger, transformed by an almost childlike joy.
He managed to stand and pulled her into his arms.
His arms wrapped carefully around her waist.
Blanche felt his breath tremble against her.