Robert stood by the door, watching Emilia's eyes roam through the room curiously.
She couldn't help but wonder if any woman had ever lived there before.
"The room is a bit cold because no one has been there in the past," Robert said, seeming to read her mind.
"His Majesty asked me to prepare this for you. A few comforted for tonight. More would arrive in the morning, like duvets, furnishings, whatever you require."
Emilia nodded.
"Thank you."
She hesitated, turning slightly to ask.
"And… the King?"
Robert bowed.
"His Majesty is most likely in the bath right now. Around this time, he prefers solitude and should not be disturbed. It helped him relax."
"How long does he stay there?"
"Usually an hour, Your Majesty."
Emilia nodded again.
"That's all. You may leave."
Once Robert leaves, she closes the door behind him and rises to her feet. Her eyes flick to the two narrow doors linking her chamber to the King's.
Carefully, quietly, she opened one and stepped into Lucas's room.
The moment she entered, her breath caught.
The room is vast, bathed in cold tones of obsidian and deep consort.
Heavy curtains draped the tall windows, and a large canopy bed stood at the center with black sheets and a dragon-embroidered coverlet.
Gold candlesticks sit on every edge, casting flickering shadows on the carved stone walls.
And on one wall—looming and lifelike—is a massive painting of a tiger, its mouth open mid-snarl, fangs bared, eyes blazing.
A gasp escaped Emilia's lips, and she took a step back, heart pounding, before realizing… it was just a painting and not really there.
She exhaled and regained composure.
Despite the luxury of the room, Emilia couldn't help but feel extremely eerie. The intense makes the room seem more uncomfortable.
Her eyes scan the room, not sure what she can find, and makes her way meticulously towards the busy desk.
She stares at the scroll lying open and ignores it, then bends lower and searches the documents under the table.
They seem old, but not too old.
Her search went on for a few minutes, getting nothing at all, and Emilia placed the papers back carefully.
Emilia stood on her feet to leave, but her eyes caught something beside the open scroll, and she picked it up slowly, opening it.
It's her father's portrait.
"Why is his portrait here?" She mumbled, confused and turned to the other scroll to open it when she heard an approaching footstep close by.
Emilia's fingers trembled, and she immediately folded the portrait, gripping it in her hand.
She came in because she trusted Robert's words that Lucas's bath would take a while longer and didn't expect herself to be so unlucky.
Panicked, Emilia gently placed the scroll and portrait exactly where she found them. Then, she hastened her stepped a distance away from it and dropped to her knees and kowtowed, her voice trembling but steady.
"Good evening, Your Majesty."
Lucas stepped in, steam still rising from his bare shoulders. His chest is bare, his lower half wrapped in a black silk towel.
Emilia raised her head but looked away almost immediately, flustered, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Lucas raised an eyebrow, surprised. His eyes subconsciously fell towards the desk behind her and his eyes rested on the scroll he placed there.
"She touched them."
He thought silently but turned aside and grabbed a robe hanging on the shelf for him.
"Who allowed you in?" he questioned, his voice low.
She lifted her head slightly, forming a ridiculous lie in a panic.
"I thought… since I am going to live in the side chamber now, perhaps I should warm your bed before you finish bathing."
A long pause followed from Lucas. Then a smirk tugged at the edge of his lips, showing his amusement.
"Really?"
"Yes,"
Emilia forces a steady breath, getting up to her feet.
"But if Your Majesty doesn't want me to, then, I will leave you alone."
She whirls toward the door she came through, ready to flee before she humiliates herself further, but Lucas's hand darts out, catching her by the wrist and pulling her back, hard, until her back slammed softly against the shelf behind her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Water from his hair drips onto her face.
Lucas stood so close she could feel the heat of his body through his damp robe, which hung loosely around his shoulders, exposing the broad expanse of his bare chest.
His skin glistened with moisture, smooth and sculpted, every curve of muscle artfully defined.
Emilia lifted her eyes and met his piercing, crystalline blue like polished sapphire, unreadable and intense.
His damp strands cling to his forehead. His full lips curl into a half-smirk.
Emilia's breath hitched. Her gaze dropped quickly, overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy of the moment.
She tried to look away, tried not to stare at the exposed V of his chest where droplets trace downwards, but her eyes betrayed her.
Heat blossoms across her cheeks. She's seen naked paintings before, but never in physical contact like that. Especially a tempting man like him.
Lucas narrowed his eyes at her, noticing the way she struggled to meet his gaze. He tilts his head, surprised she is really innocent.
He knew her to be so mischievous a few years back.
He stretched forth his hand to grab a towel beside her and offered it to her.
"Here," he said, his voice low, rough, and edged with teasing.
"Wipe my face."
She blinked.
"What?"
Lucas arched his brow, questioning her.
"Didn't you just say you came to warm my bed?" he taunted softly, watching her squirm.
"This task is much easier… unless you truly want to climb into my bed tonight."
Flustered and unsure how to respond, Emilia snatched the towel from his hand.
Her fingers tremble slightly as she inches closer, gently pressing the cloth on his face.
Emilia's eyes focused on Lucas in silence as she wiped the water dry, her breath uneven and quick.
Her movements are cautious at first, then slow and careful.
Lucas watched her through half-lidded eyes as her fingers brushed the corner of his jaw.