Yuriko grabbed Emerson's arm with enough force to nearly crush his bones and forcibly dragged him behind the most secluded curtain in the banquet hall.
The candlelight was blocked by the heavy curtains, leaving both their faces hidden in shadow.
"Are you insane?" Yuriko's voice was hushed, yet as sharp as a blade. "You're provoking Paul Greiman now? Are you trying to make my situation even more humiliating?"
Emerson struggled, but couldn't break free. Frowning, he said, "Your Highness, you're of royal blood. Are you really going to let some country noble—"
"Shut up!" Yuriko slammed him against the wall. Red Wine spilled from his glass, staining Emerson's expensive silk cravat.
"You think I don't know what you're plotting? You want to use my hand to settle your personal grudge?" He let out a cold laugh. "I know you had a falling-out with Greiman at Northwest Bay!"
Emerson's expression turned ugly.
Yuriko released him and adjusted his cuff. His voice regained its aristocratic languor, but carried a warning. "Listen. Paul Greiman is at the height of his influence right now. Even the king has to show him some respect. If I jump out now, what will I gain besides making myself look like a jealous clown?"
He leaned closer to Emerson, wine fumes blowing across the other man's face. "More importantly—the counterattack against the orcs is at a crucial stage. If internal strife causes us to lose the war, who do you think His Majesty will forgive?"
Yuriko lightly patted Emerson's rigid cheek. "Will it be you, Wilde, for sowing discord, or me, his brother, for failing to see the bigger picture?"
Emerson's Adam's apple bobbed. The unwillingness in his eyes gradually gave way to fear.
Yuriko stepped back and smiled. "But you were right about one thing—I do intend