The King's heart gave a sharp, uneasy skip when Lucien appeared in the room, ready to strike at him.
Yes, being in a twenty-one-year-old girl's chamber in the middle of the night was enough to invite suspicion, but Lucien was doing the very same thing, and with far less grace. The sight of him there, fierce and protective, made the King's jaw tighten.
"And what might you be doing here?" the King asked, his voice controlled despite the irritation curling beneath it.
Lucien's eyes were cold. "I promised to protect her," he said. "And it appears I must protect her from you, royal rat."
The King's expression hardened at the insult. Lucien had never been known for restraint, but calling a king a rat was perhaps a step too far, even for him. His fists clenched, but the pain from his earlier struggle flared, stopping him from moving further.
He did not bother arguing. He rose instead, slow and composed, and moved toward the window as though the confrontation had already bored him.
