~
Emilia sat still like a statue, wrapped in a silk robe, her eyes staring blankly ahead as the palace maids prepared the steaming bath.
The scent of lavender, jasmine, and crushed rose petals fills the air.
The marble bathing chamber gleamed under the gold candlelight, its opulence only making her feel nauseous.
The maids kneel around her like quiet shadows, gently slipping off her robe and guiding her into the vast bath carved from sapphire-tinted stone.
The water was too hot, and she bit her lip to suppress a hiss as her skin met the heat.
She lowered herself slowly, inch by inch, until the water lapsed just below her collarbone. Petals float around her, delicate and aimless, unlike her thoughts.
One of the maids whispered to her,
"Please soak for at least an hour, Your Majesty. The King wants you well-prepared."
Prepared. The word curls like a snake in Emilia's stomach.
She nodded numbly, resting her arms along the edge of the bath.
Time drags like chains and the steam wraps around her like fog.
Despite her unwillingness to relax, the water soon washed off all the exhaustion and aches from her body.
Emilia's heart pounded against her ribs at the thought that she would have to serve Lucas tonight.
"I should've stopped him earlier," she scolded herself.
"Or maybe I should've slapped him. Or screamed and fought. Why did I let him kiss me again?"
Emilia scolded herself silently, every droplet of water sliding down her skin, making her shudder at the memories of it.
It was as if… she forgot to hate him.
Rubbing her temple gently, Emilia tried to hatch up ways she could escape her fate tonight and thought maybe pretending to be ill, but shook her head afterward.
"That won't work," she sighed.
Or maybe I can faint and…
Emilia stared down at the water beneath her body, her thoughts diverting to the extreme.
Anything to stop her from giving her body to him.
If she had known, then she would never have mentioned him spending time in Catherine's chamber and staying quietly in the side chamber…
The voice of one of the maids serving her rings out after an hour, and calls.
"Your Majesty… the time is up"
"Can we come in?" she queries, but Emilia doesn't answer.
The water stilled, and the only sound was the gentle drip of condensation falling from the marble ceiling.
"Your Majesty?" the maid called again, her voice more tentative.
"The King… is waiting."
Still, no response.
The two maids exchanged worried glances. One takes a step closer to the screen, shielding the bath.
"Sh-should we go in? Just to make sure she is..."
Before she could finish, a quiet, firm voice stopped them from behind.
"Leave first."
The maids freeze. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, they bow instantly and step back.
"Your Majesty," they whisper in unison, heads lowered.
Lucas stood in the doorway, tall and silent, his figure wrapped in his royal black robes. His eyes are unreadable, but his voice softens when he adds,
"Leave us."
Without question, the maids retreat, the sound of their hurried footsteps vanishing into the corridor.
Lucas stepped inside.
The air is still heavy with steam and the scent of flowers clings to every breath.
He moved soundlessly over the tiles, past the ornate screens, until he saw her slumped slightly in the bath, her lashes resting like feathers against her cheeks, her lips parted with ease.
Her hair floats around her like ink spilled into water. The rise and fall of her chest is slow and peaceful.
She's asleep.
And she looked… ravishing.
Moonlight filtered through the window, catching the soft curve of her bare shoulder, the faint shimmer of droplets clinging to her skin.
The water gently hugged her breasts, concealing her just enough to drive him mad with temptation.
Her long legs stretch beneath the surface, ivory against the dark blue stone of the bath, like a goddess fallen asleep in the depths.
Lucas's breath caught in his throat.
"Why am I so tempted?" he wondered, and swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on her for a long moment.
His fingers twitched at his side and desire curled inside him like smoke, but then he closed his eyes briefly and let out a silent breath, forcing the heat down.
"No. Not like that." He cautioned himself and turned aside to grab a soft linen towel hanging neatly nearby.
He takes it, walks back to her, and kneels by the edge of the bath.
Gently, he wraps the cloth around her arms, then her back, careful not to wake her or touch her right hand.
Then, with exquisite care, he slipped one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her back.
Emilia murmured something in her sleep, her brow twitching slightly, but she didn't wake up.
Lucas lifted her in a bridal carry, her head falling naturally against his chest, and her hair dripping like silk against his skin.
The cloth clings to her curves, damp and thin, but he doesn't let his eyes wander again. Instead, he tightened his hold slightly, as if shielding her from the world.
She's lighter than he imagined.
He carried her to the bedroom, past the velvet curtains and gold columns, and lay her gently in the center of the massive bed.
The covers are cool against her flushed skin. He pulled the blanket over her, brushed a few damp strands of hair away from her face.
Then, slowly, he lies beside her, listening to her breathing.
In the quietness, Lucas lets himself look at her again for a while. And then the hunger in his body is replaced by a strange calm and peace.
He reached out just once, and let his fingers graze her hand beneath the sheets. Then he closed his eyes to sleep, but Emilia suddenly turned towards him and wrapped her arm in him.
Lucas's brain froze, and he panicked inwardly. It took him a minute to calm his nerves and he turned her over to the other side, then got up.
Instead of sleeping, he decided to read the remaining reports.