Chapter-1: The Serpent Prince
Dawn crept over the horizon, spilling amber light across the Great Palace of Nurin State. Sparrows gathered on the balcony railings, their chatter the only innocent sound in chambers where prayer had long ago surrendered to other rituals.
Prince Lucien lay sprawled across silk sheets, one arm behind his head, watching Geilla arrange breakfast with hands that hadn't quite stopped trembling. She'd been in his bed less than an hour ago. Now she was trying to pretend she hadn't been.
He found that amusing.
She approached to collect his discarded robe, reaching for it with the careful neutrality servants perfected. Lucien caught her wrist.
"Prince Lucien, please—" Her voice pitched higher as he pulled her down onto the bed, rolling to pin her beneath him. The breakfast tray forgotten, grapes tumbling across porcelain.
His lips found the line of her jaw, then the curve of her neck. She gasped, fingers tangling involuntarily in the white streaks threading through his Silver hair.
"Prince... it's my fertile week. I can't risk—" Her breath caught. She knew the danger, yet Lucien's violet eyes dissolved the world around her. Every line of his body was coiled power, every word silk-wrapped command. He wasn't just beautiful—he was inevitable, like the edge of a blade she couldn't turn away from.
"Shh." He pressed a finger to her lips, then replaced it with his mouth. His other hand slid beneath the fabric of her bodice while she made a sound caught between protest and pleasure. Her mind knew better. Her body didn't care.
Knock. Knock.
Lucien went still. "You're joking."
He rose with the fluid grace of a man who'd never been denied anything, wrapping a towel around his waist. Geilla scrambled to straighten her clothes, face burning.
The High Priest Sol Na Duina stood in the doorway, spine rigid with disapproval. Everything about the man suggested devotion and discipline, from his pristine robes to the way he held his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes swept the chamber, taking in the disheveled bed, Geilla's flushed cheeks, the prince's bare chest.
"It seems the rumors about you fall short of reality, Your Highness."
Lucien smiled lazily. "I'd hate to disappoint." He glanced at the maid. "Geilla. Leave us."
She fled.
Sol Na Duina didn't move from the threshold. "Platoon Knight Ethelia De Colisson has been waiting since yesterday. Perhaps you should grant her the courtesy of an audience."
"Nurin has excellent lakes. Beautiful gardens. The woman's been traveling for days—surely she deserves rest before diving into tedious escort duties." Lucien pulled on a shirt, fingers working the buttons with deliberate slowness. "Wouldn't you agree, Sol Na Duina?"
The priest's jaw tightened.
Beyond the Balcony of the chamber, in the courtyard, four guards struggled to restrain someone trying to push past them while the Chief Minister was inquiring about that struggling figure.
Lucien stepped into the doorway, and the guards immediately gave way. Sol Na Duina moved aside as well, though his expression remained sour.
"Fitted perfectly," the priest murmured, watching the prince disappear down the vast marble hall. "The Serpent Prince. Feared, respected, and utterly impossible to predict."
Which was, Lucien knew, exactly how he preferred it.