Adrian's POV
"Unless you want people finding out that the almighty King Adrian is in love with the enemy," Lucien spat, his voice dripping with venom, his lips twisting into the most sinister smile I had ever seen.
For a moment, I could not breathe. The world tilted on its axis, and the corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before my eyes. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
"What… did you just say?" I whispered, but my voice was barely there, like the wind after a storm, faint and trembling.
Lucien didn't bother to answer. He only smiled wider, a slow, cruel curl that reached his pale eyes. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving behind the faint sound of his boots echoing against the marble.
"The game," he said softly over his shoulder, "has just begun."
And then he was gone.
For several seconds, I stood there, frozen in front of my chamber doors. My heart was racing, pounding so violently that I feared it might burst through my chest. My head spun, my throat tightened. I wanted to run, to scream, to undo what had already been done.
How did he hear?
Who else knows?
What have I done?
The questions clawed through my mind one after another, each more suffocating than the last. I pressed my hand to the wall, trying to steady myself, but my body felt weak. My legs trembled.
I had been foolish. Careless. I should have known better. I was a king. My words were supposed to be measured, my heart locked behind armor. Yet in that moment with Damien, I had stripped myself bare. I had said what should never have been said.
"I love you, Damien."
I could still hear my own voice breaking. I could still see the tears I had failed to hide.
I have failed my people, I thought. I have failed my kingdom.
Lucien knows.
And if Lucien knows… others might too.
The thought almost made me sick. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move. I couldn't let my fear show, not to Lucien, not to anyone. He had no proof to back up his word if he told someone else. That was my only advantage. I had to compose myself, wear the mask of the king once again.
I straightened, took a deep breath, and began descending the grand staircase. The palace floors that had been drenched in blood earlier were now spotless, polished so thoroughly that I could see the reflection of my face, pale, cold, expressionless.
Every servant I passed bowed low. I nodded curtly, forcing the mask to stay on. Inside, I was crumbling.
When I entered the council chamber, the Hall of Crimson Thrones, the air was heavy with unease. The elders, each robed in their ceremonial silks, rose to bow. The scent of candle wax and incense filled the room.
Lucien was there, standing silently in the far corner. His head lowered in feigned obedience, but I could feel his eyes on me. Watching. Waiting.
I walked to my throne and sat. My hands trembled slightly as I rested them on the armrest, but I hid it well.
Elder Cassian, the oldest of the council, his white beard flowing down his crimson robes, his chest heavy with gold medallions of service cleared his throat. "Your Majesty," he began, voice trembling, "what do we do now? Almost half of the southern villages are gone. Our soldiers… our numbers dwindle with every passing hour."
Another elder, Lady Marcelline, her sharp eyes gleaming under her veil, added, "The wolves grow stronger. We've lost the northern trade routes, and the council of merchants is threatening rebellion if the taxes continue."
Voices began to rise, overlapping.
"The border's fallen!"
"We can't hold another attack!"
"Our defenses..."
"Enough."
My voice cut through the noise, firm but weary. Silence fell.
I hesitated, my fingers drumming against the throne. I could feel Lucien's gaze drilling into my skull. I had to speak, to sound strong.
"We will not let fear consume us," I said finally. "This war has taken enough. We must consider… peace."
The room erupted again, but this time it was not the council that spoke first.
"Peace?"
Lucien's voice sliced through the air, mocking, disdainful. He stepped forward, his tone filled with arrogance. "Tell me, Your Majesty, why would you even think of peace? The wolves just destroyed an entire village to prove their dominance. Do you think they seek peace? Or will you keep pretending they do so you can soothe your guilty conscience?"
The room fell silent in shock. Every elder turned toward him, eyes wide.
No one ever interrupted the king. Not even Lucien.
"Lucien!" Elder Cassian snapped, rising to his feet. "You dare speak to His Majesty like that? You will be punished for your insolence!"
But Lucien only smiled, that smug, venomous smile that made my skin crawl.
"With all due respect, Elder," he said smoothly, "our king has not been thinking rationally. His mind is… clouded. If he truly believes peace is possible after all this bloodshed, then perhaps he's no longer fit to decide what's best for us."
I felt every eye in the room shift to me. The humiliation burned deep.
"Enough," I said coldly, though my voice faltered at the edge. "You speak out of turn, Lucien."
He smirked. "Or maybe I'm the only one brave enough to speak the truth."
"Lucien!"
A commanding voice echoed through the chamber. Everyone turned.
Duchess Isolde entered, regal as ever, her dark gown sweeping across the floor like flowing ink. Her presence alone could silence a crowd. The air itself seemed to bow before her.
Every elder stood and bowed deeply, including Lucien.
"Mother," he said lightly, his tone dripping with false innocence.
"Silence!" she snapped, her eyes flashing like steel. "You forget yourself. King Adrian is not your equal. He is your ruler. You dare speak to him with such arrogance?"
Lucien bowed his head slightly. "I only speak the truth..."
"Truth?" she cut him off sharply. "You call insolence truth?"
I almost wanted to laugh. Her act was perfect, a queen of deception protecting the image of loyalty. I knew she was only putting on a show, trying to keep suspicion away from herself and her son.
She turned to me and curtsied deeply. "Your Majesty," she said smoothly, her voice softening. "Forgive him. He lacks discipline, a failure that rests on me as his mother. You may punish him as you see fit."
Lucien looked up at me, his eyes gleaming. Daring me to act.
I swallowed. "No," I said finally. "Lucien was only… expressing his thoughts. There's no need for punishment."
A few elders murmured disapproval, but I ignored them. I couldn't risk it, not now. Not when he held the dagger to my throat with invisible hands.
Lucien's smirk deepened. He knew.
I cleared my throat and stood. "I am not feeling well," I said quietly. "If any of you have further suggestions, send them to my study. This meeting is adjourned."
The elders bowed. Lucien's gaze followed me as I left the hall. I didn't look back.
The moment I reached my chamber, I shut the door and locked it. "No one disturbs me," I said to the servants outside.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Silence. Finally.
I leaned against the door, exhaling sharply. My pulse hadn't slowed. My hands shook. My thoughts were chaos.
I walked to the window and pushed it open, desperate for air. The moonlight bathed the room in silver. I could still feel Lucien's eyes on me, the way he had looked at me, like a wolf toying with his prey.
I needed something to calm my mind.
I crossed to my dresser, pulled open a drawer, and took out a slim case. Inside was a single dark stick, Night Ember, the old smoke I used to inhale before battles. I had quit years ago, but tonight, I needed it.
I lit it. The smoke filled my lungs, the burn steadying me. For a moment, I almost felt sane again.
Then the memories came back.
Damien's hand, gripping mine. His golden eyes filled with anger, confusion, and something I dared not name.
My words, "I love you" spilling out before I could stop them.
And his silence.
He hadn't said it back.
Not a word.
The rejection hit me, sharp as a blade. My chest ached. I turned away from the window, my jaw tightening.
"Damn it," I muttered, crushing the smoke into the table until it broke apart. "What was I thinking?"
I should have let him kill me that night. It would've been easier. Cleaner. Now everything I have, my crown, my throne, my name hangs by a thread because I couldn't control my heart.
I pressed my palms to my face, feeling the sting of tears but refusing to let them fall.
"Idiot," I whispered to myself. "You're a damn fool."
If Lucien spreads word of what he heard… if the council suspects… everything will fall apart. My enemies will have me executed, and Damien...Damien will be dragged down with me.
No. I can't let that happen.
I'll protect him. Even if it kills me.
But a voice inside me whispered back, And what if he doesn't love you?
That silence… that hesitation in his eyes…
It tore through me like poison.
Maybe he doesn't feel the same. Maybe he never did.
My chest tightened. For the first time in centuries, I felt utterly powerless.
I stared down at the crushed smoke on the table, my reflection fractured in the glass.
"This," I murmured, "might just be the biggest mistake of my life."
The wind howled outside. Somewhere far away, I could hear the faint sound of the wolves howling, Damien's kin, his people.
And as the night closed in around me, one truth remained
The war outside was nothing compared to the one now raging around me.