The Empire's deadliest assassin was currently being defeated by a piece of paper.
Lucien stood perfectly still in the center of the manor's armory, surrounded by racks of heavy broadswords, wicked daggers, and polished shields. In his dark, leather-gloved hands, he held a single, pristine piece of expensive stationery and a charcoal pencil.
He had been staring at the blank paper for forty-five minutes.
His violet eyes were narrowed into lethal slits. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He looked exactly like a man calculating the optimal angle to sever a target's spinal cord, but in reality, he was trying to figure out how to write 'Would you like to take a walk with me?' without sounding like a serial killer.
"You look like you are plotting a regicide," a smooth, incredibly amused voice echoed from the doorway.
