To Love a Crowned Enemy

The air in the palace was thick with unspoken words. Every glance in the great halls, every hushed whisper behind silk-covered mouths, carried weight. I could feel the shift—slow, creeping, like a blade being sharpened in the dark.

I had expected resistance, but Montreve's boldness was growing. And that meant I needed to be smarter, faster.

My meeting with Lady Seraphina had planted the first seed. Now, I needed to ensure it took root.

But before I could strategize further, a familiar presence entered the room. I didn't have to turn to know it was him.

Lucian.

"You're making waves," he said, his voice even, measured.

I smirked but didn't look away from my map. "Good. I want them to drown."

A quiet huff of amusement. He stepped closer, placing a gloved hand on the table beside mine, his fingers brushing the parchment. "And yet, if you push too hard, the tide may turn against you."

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Is that a warning?"

His lips quirked. "An observation."

Lucian had always spoken in careful words, never offering too much, never letting his thoughts slip past that impenetrable wall of his. But I had begun to see the cracks. Small, almost imperceptible.

And I knew he had begun to see mine, too.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. "You impressed Seraphina."

I raised a brow. "Did I?"

He nodded. "She's a woman who does not play unless she sees value in the game. You gave her something to consider."

"And yet, I doubt she'll throw her lot in so easily," I mused, tilting my head. "Trust is not given freely in this court."

Lucian studied me for a long moment before speaking. "Then make her fear what happens if she stands against you."

The way he said it—soft, assured—sent a slow chill down my spine. Not because I disagreed, but because it was the same thought I had already entertained.

I tapped a finger against the table. "You're not here just to tell me this, are you?"

A pause. Then—

"No."

I waited, letting the silence stretch, forcing him to continue.

Finally, he did. "Montreve is gathering support faster than I anticipated."

I frowned. "You said he would be cautious."

Lucian exhaled sharply, the closest thing to frustration I had seen from him. "So did I."

For a moment, he almost looked… irritated. As if Montreve's unpredictability personally offended him.

"I should have seen it sooner," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "I underestimated how quickly he would move."

The idea of Lucian underestimating anything was unsettling.

I stepped around the table, closing the space between us slightly. "Then we adjust."

His gaze snapped to mine, searching. "You say that so easily."

I tilted my chin up. "Because I know we don't have the luxury of anything else."

A beat passed. Then another.

And then—

"Come with me."

I blinked. "What?"

Lucian turned, already heading toward the door. "Come. Now."

For a moment, I considered refusing. The stubborn part of me bristled at the command in his voice. But the other part—the part that knew Lucian never did anything without reason—made me move.

We strode through the palace halls, past looming marble pillars and corridors that smelled of burning candles and polished stone. Servants ducked out of our way, their gazes downcast.

Lucian didn't speak until we reached a secluded balcony overlooking the western courtyard. Below, in the torch-lit shadows, a small gathering of nobles spoke in hushed tones.

Montreve was among them.

My fists clenched at my sides.

Lucian leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching them with a predator's patience. "They think no one is listening."

I swallowed, my pulse steady but alert. "What are they planning?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, watching the scene below with sharp, assessing eyes.

Then, finally—

"They want to ruin you."

I forced a breath through my nose. "I gathered that much."

Lucian turned to me then, the torchlight catching in his ice-blue gaze. "No. You don't understand."

I waited.

"They're not just looking to discredit you." His voice was quiet, but firm. "They're looking to remove you."

A cold weight settled in my chest. "Assassination?"

Lucian's jaw tensed. "Perhaps. But they won't be so reckless just yet."

Yet.

The word lingered between us.

I straightened. "Then we make the first move."

Lucian's brows lifted slightly, as if he hadn't expected me to say it so easily.

I crossed my arms. "What? Did you think I'd wait for them to strike first?"

His gaze searched mine for a long moment. Then—

"No," he murmured. "I didn't."

The air between us shifted.

It wasn't trust. Not yet. But it was something close.

A dangerous, delicate balance.

One that neither of us could afford to break.