Lucien POV
"Fuck, fuck… fuck!!!" I cursed as I hurried out of the room.
I spat blood from my mouth, and one of the maids exiting the throne room I had thrashed earlier quickly dropped the items she was carrying to clean the spot.
I wiped my mouth and kept moving, hoping what my father had said wasn't true. Hoping for a miracle that would keep Chelly alive, because there was no way she could be dead just hours after we found out we were mates. And a few more hours before I was declared King.
As if Koa's presence wasn't already disrupting everything, now the one thing that gave me an edge and the necessary criteria that made me one step ahead of him and more eligible, had been snatched away too.
There was no way Chelly was dead. If she were, I would have felt it the instant her life was in danger—or worse, the moment she actually died. But I felt nothing.
The only thing washing over me now was this overwhelming sense of unease, of being told something I couldn't fully trust. That was it. No agonizing pain, no gut-wrenching dread, nothing like what was supposed to come with a mate's death.
I made a beeline for the hallway that led to my room, moving fast enough that my anger and confusion pushed everything else out of my mind. The moment I reached the door, I threw it open and slammed it shut behind me, the echo of the bang bouncing off the walls.
The first thing I needed was to get cleaned up and check my face properly to see what mark Koa had left on it before I face anyone else.
As I stared at the mirror, I realized there was no much mark on my face. Except for my split lip that was getting more swollen by the minute.
Rage washed over me in a hot, raw wave.
Fuck, I yelled again at my own reflection.
This was really bad, especially because father got to see how I got defeated with little to no effort.
I began pacing the room, dragging my fingers over the bruise as I stripped off my shirt. Normally, injuries like this would heal almost immediately, but royal blood carried its own rules.
And royal bloods inflicting injury such as this on each other is not exceptional. The damage lingers too even though the perosn taking the hit is royal blooded.
I would have loved to make Koa taste his own medicine. To land a blow so he'd bleed and feel carry my scar on his perfect frame. But I have never been able to land a single hit on him. Not once and that alone fueled my hatred.
After he traveled all those years ago, I had used the time to train and push myself harder, and to grow stronger. But even now that I had a better status than him, more muscle and stature, more weight behind me, Koa could still throw me down as if I were nothing. He could still make me bleed, make me fail, and feel damn small as though I was beneath him.
And I still couldn't land a fucking hit, even if it was by mistake.
No wonder Father brought him back. He saw him as a better fit, and because he knew I was the legitimate heir and couldn't simply hand the throne to him, was the reason he was following and making long protocols. But I know he yearns to make his bastard son the King.
The thought of that made my blood boil all over again.
"This is bad," I muttered to myself once more as I rubbed my lips. I could not afford to lose my mate, especially after Koa had also mentioned that he had found his.
Everything was slipping out of my hands. Everything I had planned was crumbling, and I hated it. I needed to do something. I needed control back, and I needed it fast.
I quickly changed into clean clothes, taking a long moment to try to compose myself in the mirror. I attempted to put on a neutral expression, a calm, controlled face, even a hint of care or charm that could hide my anger.
I tried to look like the kind of man people would trust and follow, but the fury beneath my skin made it impossible to truly hide. My jaw was tight, my eyes hard, and every part of me burned with impatience and rage.
Once I had dressed, I ran my fingers over my hair, trying to smooth it, and stared at my reflection one last time. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.
I took a deep breath before stepping out into the hallway.
As I made my way down the corridor, a few maids immediately bowed at the sight of me. I ignored them because it meant nothing to me right now.
Further ahead, I caught whispers from more maids.
"Chelly…"
"Is it true…?"
"Poor thing…"
The moment they noticed me, they straightened and bowed quickly, their voices dying in their throats. I kept walking as if I hadn't heard a thing. As if I wasn't unraveling inside. As if my entire claim to the throne wasn't balancing on a thread.
I needed to stay composed. I needed to look unaffected.
But that was nearly impossible.
I exited the palace and descended the steps, prepared to order the guards to take me to the Beta residence.
Or the hospital like father had instructed.
I opened my mouth to give the command when I heard a familiar voice that made my body go still immediately.
That voice was capable of undoing me. Of sending heat through my veins and cold down my spine at the same time.
"Sansa…" I breathed, the name falling from my lips before I could stop it.
I turned sharply toward the direction it came from and my feet began to move on their own accord, following her scent.
When I finally reached the archway and could now see her clearly, I couldn't help but smirk.
She had been running away from me, forgetting she worked in the palace.
"There she is," I said announcing my presence.