Emilia sat in the candlelit room on a cushioned chair with her veil removed, but her crown still firmly in place with her eyes closed, and her posture composed.
Lucas paused again at the sight of her and only one thought crossed his mind,
She is breathtaking.
Even in stillness, she looked radiant.
The rumors that Emilia Markham was the most beautiful woman in the Kingdom were definitely right. No, beyond that. She is devastating in her elegance.
Her beauty and elegance struck him harder than he expected.
She looked very different from when he last remembered her at the age of ten. She has grown totally different.
Lucas shuts the door quietly and the click startles Emilia. She jumps to her feet, clearly not expecting him to arrive so soon.
She was mid-thought, rehearsing what she planned to do with him and flinched, nervous.
Yet... her expression reminded Lucas of the little girl from his past again and he furrowed.
"Y-Your Majesty," Emilia stammered.
Lucas watched her hands as they trembled. And her eyes… they hold that same familiar fear he had seen in countless others, and he never cared about it, but this time, it bothers him.
A heavy silence blankets the room, so thick it chokes the air between them. Only the faint strain of music from the ongoing celebration drifts through the stone walls.
"Sit down," Lucas said at last, his tone flat.
Emilia obeyed without a word, her movements stiff and controlled with anxiety.
The chair creaked softly beneath her as she lowered herself.
Lucas poured himself a glass of wine with calm precision, the sound of the liquid trickling into the cup far too loud in the quiet chamber.
Emilia's eyes fix on him as he takes a sip, not lifting away for a second. The fear that once shimmered in her gaze gradually transformed, frosting over into something sharper and colder.
Rage brewed beneath the surface, igniting the grief that had lain dormant in her heart like dying embers waiting to burn again. She tried to keep calm but couldn't keep the thought of her father's tears out of her head.
She blamed him as the King for not investigating properly despite knowing its plot from others. Since she is already in the danger of losing her head in the palace, then she might as well let me know what pain her father suffered.
Remembering the look on the Prime Minister's face after meeting him in Lucas's chamber, Emilia can't be any more convinced that he is in cohort with them.
She pressed her hand discreetly against her side, feeling the reassuring weight of the hidden dagger beneath the folds of her gown.
Lucas notices the brooding storm in her expression. He places his glass on the table with a sharp clink, breaking the tension.
Without a word, he stood up and began to undress, slowly.
Emilia stood too, her pulse quickening. Fear twists in her stomach again.
What now?
Deciding to act on what Sophia instructed her about the first night before she leaves, Emilia moves closer to him.
Her fingers hovered near his shoulder, trembling slightly.
"Do you know how?" Lucas asked, catching her hand with a surprisingly gentle grip.
His touch felt hot against hers and Emilia yanked her hand back as if burned.
"I don't," she murmured, forcing herself to meet his gaze before looking away, her heart thundering in her chest, but Lucas didn't press her.
Instead, he turned and continued undressing without her help, the slight tightness in his shoulders betraying the mild irritation in him.
Within moments, he stood in nothing but a sheer undergarment, the dim candlelight casting faint shadows over his chest.
Emilia quickly averted her gaze, coughing lightly, and embarrassed.
Lucas smirked at her reaction, placing a long robe on himself.
"Aren't you going to undress?" he teased, amused by her sudden shyness.
Emilia's eyes flicked at him, then dropped to the floor.
Why is she nervous now? She's come this far. She must not falter.
Emilia thought to herself.
She started by removing her earrings, deliberately slowly, and her gaze flickered between her movements and his form, calculating what moment would be right, but her eyes fell on his bare chest, and she quickly turned her head away again, her jaw clenched.
Anger and frustration bubble up within her.
How dare he look so composed? So calm, after everything?
She fumbles angrily with the crown on her head.
Lucas watched her, then stepped closer and gently removed the crown for her.
"No one is allowed to touch this but you and me," he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.
"You wear it only for official duties."
Emilia nodded stiffly, then griped the tie of her gown.
"I need to undress." "You should turn around," she said flatly.
Lucas raised an eyebrow at her tone, but he didn't argue.
He walked to the bed, lied down, and turned his back to her, his silhouette outlined against the flickering candlelight.
Emilia began to undress slowly, each motion filled with caution. Her eyes flick to him repeatedly, making sure he doesn't look.
Lucas lies still, his breathing steady, though his mind whirls. He had seen countless women stand before him, Eleanor, many times. She would be the first woman ever to refuse him looking at her.
A flash of memory of the time he was slapped by her years ago for innocently touching her in the garden appeared to Lucas.
He nearly smiled at the absurdity of recalling such a moment now. Then he realized he wasn't hearing any sound from her.
Lucas wondered why she was suddenly quiet and frowned, then turned, only to find a dagger pointed at his chest.
He reacted instinctively, grabbing her wrist just in time.
"Are you trying to murder your husband?!" he growled, the shock evident in his voice.
Emilia's eyes blazed with fury, although fazed that he caught her and pushed forward with her strength.
"Yes, husband." she grunted mockingly.