THIRD PERSON
Dinner proceeded, a dance of conversation layered on politics, alliances, and unspoken challenges. Alexander spoke when required, his tone clipped, and each word were measured. Every glance at Nyx was precise, as if noting her reaction.
After dinner, Nyx rose first.
She inclined her head toward the Queen Dowager, posture flawless. "Good night, Your Majesty."
The Queen smiled warmly, reaching out to clasp Nyx's hand. "Do not be a stranger, my dear. You are always welcome here."
Nyx acknowledged the affection with a respectful nod before turning toward the exit, heels clicking softly against marble.
She had taken only a few steps when hurried footsteps followed.
"Nyx—wait." Lucien caught up to her half-running, copper hair slightly disheveled.
Without thinking, he reached for her wrist, attempting to stop her from disappearing down the corridor. The sound was sharp, her heel snapped. Nyx's balance faltered as pain shot through her ankle.
She did not cry out, only inhaled sharply as Lucien reacted instantly, hands gripping her arms to steady her.
"Shit—Nyx, I—" His voice dropped, panic bleeding through his usual ease. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"
She exhaled once, her jaw tightening. Lucien guided her carefully toward a stone bench along the corridor and helped her sit.
"It's nothing," Nyx said coolly, though her ankle throbbed.
Lucien crouched in front of her, guilt written plainly across his face. "Don't do that," he said quietly. "You're not made of steel. You have flesh and blood running through you, though we're demons. It's okay to feel pain and I'm sorry for grabbing you like that."
She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "I can walk," she said flatly.
He shook his head. "You can't." Then, he said softly "Let me help."
He gestured toward the driveway beyond the glass doors. "Your driver is waiting. I'll get you there."
Nyx's shifted, testing her ankle, letting a faint scowl settle onto her features.
Lucien winced. "Don't look at me like that. I already feel terrible."
For a bit longer, she held the act, then she laughed. A low, unexpected sound.
Lucien blinked. "You—wait. You're laughing?"
Nyx leaned back slightly, shaking her head. "You're insufferable," she said with a smile. "But fine. Help me."
Relief washed over his face. Without hesitation, Lucien dropped to one knee in front of her and turned his back.
"Get on," he said simply.
She raised a brow. "You're serious."
"Completely."
she placed her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to lift her. He steadied himself, then began backing her carefully toward the driveway.
Above them, unseen, Alexander stood in the shadowed window of his study.
He watched the scene in silence. Lucien's gentleness, Nyx's rare laughter, the ease with which she allowed someone close.
On the opposite side of the estate, Draven leaned against the balcony railing, eyes narrowed slightly as he observed silently.
_______________________________________
Nyx arrived home well past midnight.
Her mansion rose behind iron gates like a statement rather than a residence. Pale stone walls gleamed under soft exterior lighting, fountains murmuring quietly along the driveway. Tall columns framed the entrance, and warm light spilled from arched windows, turning power into something lived-in, not displayed.
Inside, the air was calm. Expansive halls stretched into layered spaces of quiet luxury, polished marble floors softened by silk rugs, high ceilings crowned with chandeliers, walls adorned with art collected rather than commissioned, Everything looks grand.
Nyx stepped inside and exhaled, the tension of the evening dissolving without effort. Her heels came off immediately, toss aside carelessly.
"Nyx." Her mother's gentle voice came from the sitting room making Nyx to smile as she turned. They sat together beneath warm lighting, the room rich with comfort-plush couches, and crackling sound coming from the fireplace. Tea was already waiting.
Her mother studied her for a long moment, eyes softening. "Do you realize how far you've come?" she asked quietly. "Look at this place. Look at yourself."
Nyx settled lazily on the couch. "I built what I needed."
"And more," her mother said, emotion thickening her voice.
"You built a life. You healed. You turned everything that tried to break you into something solid." Her mother's eyes glistened with unshaded tears "People see the ice. They don't know why it exists."
Nyx let herself sink fully into the comfort of home. She rested her head against her mother's lap, her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Her mother's hand stroked her hair gently, softly, as if washing away the tension of the day, Nyx felt herself drift toward sleep, safe and away from the demands of the world outside these walls.