Chapter 2

I nearly stopped breathing inside Lucien’s wardrobe.

Not because I was surprised that my father wanted me married. I had known for years that eventually someone would decide my bachelorhood had become an inconvenience to the kingdom, but hearing the words from inside a wardrobe while Lucien stood a few feet away was an entirely different kind of humiliation.

I pressed one hand against my mouth and listened.

My father sounded completely calm, which somehow made everything worse.

“The council has become increasingly concerned about succession,” he continued. “Adrian is twenty-eight, he is the only heir, and there is still no certainty regarding the continuation of the dynasty. They want an assurance that there will be a future beyond him.”

I stared at the inside of the wardrobe as though the wooden panels had personally betrayed me.

An assurance. Apparently that was what I was now.

“The courtship will also create a security problem,” my father continued. “Every noble family with an unmarried daughter will suddenly have an interest in getting close to him, and I have no intention of allowing anyone to exploit the situation.”

Lucien answered in that maddeningly calm voice of his. “I will increase his protection and make certain the appropriate precautions are taken.”

Of course he would.

He was always like this, always so damn reasonable while my entire life was being dismantled around him.

“You will remain beside him throughout the process,” my father said. “I trust you more than anyone to keep him safe, and I expect you to keep him from turning the courtship into another one of his reckless games.”

That almost made me laugh.

My father had just assigned the one man I was secretly obsessed with to remain beside me while I was paraded in front of women and expected to choose one of them, and neither of them seemed to understand how absurd that was.

Or perhaps Lucien understood perfectly and was simply pretending he didn't.

“You have known him almost his entire life,” my father continued. “You know how he behaves when he wants something. Do not let him make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Lucien was quiet for a moment before answering.

“I will do what is required, Your Majesty.”

Something inside me sank.

It was ridiculous how much those words hurt.

My father said a few more things about the council, the visiting families, the arrangements that would begin within days, and the possibility of an official announcement, but I barely heard him anymore because I was stuck on Lucien's answer.

I will do what is required.

When the door finally closed behind my father, I stayed inside the wardrobe until his footsteps disappeared completely.

Then the door opened.

Lucien stood there looking down at me.

I climbed out slowly, straightening his shirt where it had become wrinkled around my waist, and for once I did not make a joke about being discovered half-dressed in his wardrobe because I was too angry to find one worth saying.

“My father just decided who I am supposed to marry,” I said, keeping my eyes on him, “and you stood there listening as though he was giving you instructions about tomorrow’s patrol.”

Lucien’s expression remained controlled, but his shoulders had gone stiff.

“He is the King.”

“He is my father.”

“And he is the King.”

I gave a humorless laugh and stepped closer. “Do you hear yourself? He just decided that I am going to marry someone before the end of the year, and your response is that he is the King.”

“What would you have preferred me to say?”

“I wanted you to have an opinion.”

“It does not matter what I think.”

I stared at him for a moment, then moved closer again because apparently I had not suffered enough.

“You have been sleeping beside me emotionally for sixteen years, Lucien. You know when I am lying, you know when I am angry, you know when I am pretending not to care, and you know exactly why I come to you when I cannot sleep. You have known me since I was twelve years old, and now you are standing there telling me that none of that matters because my father has decided I need a wife.”

Lucien’s eyes flickered.

That tiny movement was enough to make me keep going.

“You know me better than almost anyone alive, so do not stand there and pretend this is only about duty. You know exactly what I feel.”

“Adrian.”

His voice was lower now. I hated the way my name sounded in it.

I swallowed and forced myself to ask the question I had been avoiding.

“And what am I supposed to do with the part of me that wants you?”

He looked at me but didn't answer.

The silence stretched between us until I could hear my own breathing, and suddenly all the teasing I had been using to hide behind felt stupid. I had spent so long provoking him because it was easier to laugh when he refused me, easier to pretend his restraint amused me when some pathetic part of me was always waiting for him to finally stop resisting.

I stepped closer anyway.

“Lucien, I am asking you something real.”

“Leave.”

I actually flinched.

The word was quiet, but it landed with enough force to make me step backward.

“What?”

“Go back to your rooms.”

I stared at him, waiting for the slightest indication that he was going to take it back, because surely he could not have meant it like that. Surely the man who had sat beside me while I cried over my mother, who had let me sleep beside him when nightmares became unbearable, who had spent years letting me invade every part of his life, could not suddenly look at me as though I had become something he needed to remove.

“Are you seriously asking me to leave?”

His eyes hardened.

“Yes.”

My throat tightened so quickly that I had to look away before he could see it.

I had been prepared for anger, arguments, another lecture about duty, even another refusal to kiss me, but not this. Not Lucien standing there and telling me that he wanted me gone.

I nodded once because speaking immediately would have betrayed too much, then turned toward the door.

I had almost reached it when his voice came behind me.

“Do not come here again.”

I stopped with my hand hovering over the handle.

For several seconds I stood there staring at the door, waiting for him to explain, waiting for him to say something that would make this hurt less.

Nothing came. I left without looking back.

I lasted until morning.

By sunrise, I was standing outside Lucien’s quarters again, staring at the door I had been told never to approach, and I hated myself for how quickly I had broken the promise he had demanded from me.

I knocked. Lucien opened the door. The moment he saw me, something changed in his face, but it disappeared before I could decide what it meant.

“Return to your rooms.”

I frowned at him. “I came to talk to you.”

“There is nothing left to discuss.”

“Then let me inside.”

“No.”

The answer was immediate.

I stared at him, genuinely confused now.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“Lucien, yesterday you told me to leave, and I did. I am standing here this morning because I want to understand what the hell happened to you overnight.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“Then why are you treating me like a stranger?”

His jaw tightened.

“Because your father has placed me in charge of protecting your reputation during the marriage negotiations, and I will not continue allowing you to turn my private quarters into a place where every boundary disappears.”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

There it was again. That careful language. That cold, reasonable explanation that somehow hurt more than anger would have.

He was not saying he did not want me.

He was saying he did not trust what happened when he let me close.

I stepped toward the doorway.

“Move.”

Lucien did not. I tried again, quieter this time because my voice no longer sounded like mine.

“I am ordering you to move.”

His eyes held mine.

“You can.”

I waited.

His voice softened, but somehow that made it worse.

“But I am asking you not to.”

My hand dropped from the doorframe.

I looked at him for another second, then stepped backward, because if I stayed there any longer I was going to say something humiliating, and I had already given him more of me than I could bear.

I returned to my rooms and found three portraits waiting on my desk.

Three beautiful women.Three carefully chosen futures.

On top of them lay a note from my father.

I picked it up with fingers that still felt strangely unsteady from the conversation I had just had with Lucien.

Choose carefully. The woman you choose will one day wear the crown beside you.