Before dawn broke, Aveline was roused by urgent knocking. She donned a sheer silk robe and padded barefoot across the cold stone floor to the door. Lucian still slept, half-covered by a brocade quilt, his profile serene in the lingering candlelight. Her fingertips lingered on the kiss mark on his shoulder, as if last night's embrace had never ended.
Outside stood Captain Leo, head of the royal guard. His expression grave, he whispered: "His Highness bid me inform you that Regent Ealdred will arrive at the palace's West Hall at dawn for an audience with you and Lady Aveline."
Aveline's heart jolted. Ealdred had come too soon, leaving no time to catch their breath. Glancing back at Lucian, she murmured: "Time waits for no one."
Half an hour later, beneath the marble dome of the West Hall, Aveline stood beside Lucian, facing the wily Regent who had ruled the court for years.
Ealdred wore a black-purple ceremonial robe, his silver hair combed immaculately. His hawkish gaze scanned Aveline as he said with feigned concern: "I heard someone broke into the turret last night? Hardly safe for the kingdom's heir."
Aveline smiled coolly: "Thank you for your concern, Your Grace, but I was unharmed. Curiously, the turret held more surprises than expected."
"Surprises?" Ealdred arched an eyebrow.
Lucian added flatly: "Unregistered chambers, ancient crests, and uncirculated royal correspondence."
The air stilled. Ealdred remained unfazed: "With the kingdom's long history, some dusty secrets are best left undisturbed. Learn to distinguish rumor from reality."
"Oh, I am learning," Aveline smiled, her eyes cold as frost.
Ealdred offered no more than: "Some questions, when pushed too far, leave no retreat."
He swept out, his footsteps echoing in the corridor like a fading threat.
That afternoon, sunlight streamed into the inner chamber as Aveline sat at the carved desk, poring over the letter. Its yellowed pages curled at the edges, each word weighted by history.
Lucian approached, embracing her from behind. His lips brushed her bare shoulder: "You've been deep in thought."
She closed the scroll, tilting her head to meet his gaze: "Aren't you?"
"I was thinking of you last night," he chuckled, fingers sliding into her hair. Aveline rolled her eyes but didn't pull away.
"Need a distraction? I can help." He lifted her from the chair and laid her gently on the bed.
Aveline's smile deepened as she unlaced his tunic: "Prove you're more convincing than the Regent."
Lucian answered with a kiss. Their bodies tangled, clothing pooling on the carpet. His palms traced her waistline—gentle yet commanding. She reciprocated with lips and teeth, her breath catching, fingertips trembling along his spine.
The bedframe creaked, drapes rustled, and light played over their entwined forms. They forgot conspiracies and bloodlines; in that moment, only their shared breath spoke.
Later, curled together, Aveline pressed her cheek to his chest, still clutching the scroll.
"If you're my weakness," she whispered, "then you must also be my blade."
Lucian kissed her crown, murmuring: "Then let's pierce this lie together."
As the sun rose outside, the palace's shadows were only just beginning to lengthen.