The Lie We Agreed to Tell
The lie began with a room.
It was not the lavish chambers reserved for ceremonial consorts, nor the stark quarters of a court servant. Instead, Blake led Lumi to a suite carved deep into the inner keep, its walls etched with protective sigils layered so densely they hummed. Shadowlight glowed softly along the ceiling, casting everything in muted silver and black.
"This will be yours," Blake said.
Lumi took in the space—the wide bed draped in dark linens, the narrow balcony overlooking the endless night, the single doorway that connected directly to the prince's chambers.
"Mine," she echoed.
"And mine," he added. "That part is unavoidable."
The truth inside her stirred, testing the words. No deception there. Only resignation.
Blake dismissed the guards with a sharp gesture. The door sealed behind them, leaving a silence that felt far more intimate than either of them were prepared for.
"For appearances," he said, turning to face her, "we will be seen entering and leaving together. We will dine together. Sit close. Touch."
His gaze flicked briefly to her hands.
Lumi folded her arms, more to contain herself than to shield. "And when the court listens at doors?"
"They always listen," Blake replied. "So we give them a story simple enough to repeat."
She nodded slowly. "What is it?"
"That we met in shadow," he said. "That you steadied me. That I chose you because you are truth in a realm of lies."
The irony cut deep.
"And if they ask how we fell in love?" Lumi asked.
Blake hesitated.
The truth flickered—uncertainty, unfamiliar, sharp.
"We don't speak of love," he said finally. "Only loyalty."
Something in her chest tightened. "Love would be more convincing."
His eyes darkened. "Love would be more dangerous."
They stood there, the lie stretching between them like a blade balanced on its edge.
"Then teach me," Lumi said quietly. "How to convince them."
Blake studied her for a long moment, then stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet.
"People believe what they can see," he said. "And what they envy."
He lifted his hand slowly, deliberately, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed her wrist, warm and steady. The truth inside her did not scream. It softened, curious.
"Touch must look effortless," Blake murmured. "Like this."
His thumb traced the inside of her wrist, just enough pressure to be felt. Lumi's breath caught despite herself.
"Eye contact lingers," he continued, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "As if the rest of the room has ceased to exist."
It almost had.
"And distance," Blake said quietly, "is a lie."
He closed the space between them.
Lumi was acutely aware of every detail—the faint scent of steel and night clinging to him, the warmth of his body, the way his presence wrapped around her senses without triggering pain. The truth inside her rested, watchful but calm.
"Is this enough?" she asked softly.
"For now," he replied.
His hand slid to her waist, firm but careful, as if she were something breakable. The gesture was practiced—perfectly placed for any watching eyes.
The door shimmered.
Lumi stiffened. "Someone's there."
"I know," Blake said under his breath. He did not move away.
Instead, he leaned in, his mouth near her ear. "Breathe," he whispered. "They'll feel the tension if you don't."
His breath brushed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
The truth inside her stirred—not pain, not warning.
Something else.
The door's shimmer faded.
Only then did Blake step back.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"That felt… convincing," Lumi said finally.
"Yes," Blake replied. His voice was steadier than his eyes. "Too convincing."
She swallowed. "We should set boundaries."
His mouth curved faintly. "Agreed."
"No lying to each other," she said first. "Not unless absolutely necessary."
"That may be impossible," Blake said. "But I'll try."
"No using the truth to hurt me," he added. "Even unintentionally."
She nodded. "And no forgetting this is an act."
The last rule hung between them, fragile and already cracking.
Blake turned toward the balcony, gazing out at the endless night. "This lie will protect us," he said. "For a while."
Lumi joined him, the cold air brushing her face. Far below, the city of Noctyrrh pulsed with shadowlight and secrets.
"Yes," she said.
The truth inside her whispered something far more dangerous.
Lies that feel this real never stay contained.