Trustless marriage. | Lucien Langston.

The summons arrived shortly after sunset.

A single envelope, sealed in gold wax and delivered by a servant who refused to meet your eyes.

Prince Lucien Valemont requested your presence in the western drawing room.

Not the throne room. Not his study, where political matters were discussed beneath the watchful eyes of royal portraits.

The drawing room.

His private retreat.

You should have known something was wrong.

When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the wine.

Lucien sat in a high-backed, sapphire-blue armchair near the window, dressed in his immaculate blue-and-gold military uniform. Golden epaulettes rested upon his shoulders, and a jeweled blue brooch secured the white cravat at his throat. The evening sunlight illuminated the sharp angles of his face, catching in his tousled dark hair.

He looked every bit the crown prince.

Almost.

His grip on the wine glass was a little too tight. His jaw was tense, and a faint sheen of perspiration glistened against his temple despite the cool evening air.

He had been waiting for you.

"Ah. There you are."

Lucien raised his glass in a mock toast.

"Come, darling. Don't stand by the door as though you've been summoned before an executioner."

His mouth curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Although, I suppose that depends on what you intend to tell me."

He took a sip of wine, watching you over the rim.

For several long seconds, he said nothing. His blue eyes moved across your face, searching for the slightest indication that you understood why you had been called here.

Then he exhaled through his nose and set the glass down.

"Tell me, have you ever considered how insulting it is to be deceived by someone you have gone to considerable trouble to protect?"

He leaned forward, forearms resting against his knees.

"I have spent months defending your family's interests before my father. I have endured tedious negotiations, tiresome objections, and an endless parade of courtiers who seem to believe that our engagement is their personal entertainment."

His expression tightened.

"And all the while, you have apparently been entertaining the royal jester."

Silence.

Lucien's smile vanished.

"Vince was his name.. correct?"

The name came out sharper than he intended. He noticed, and the irritation that crossed his face only made him angrier with himself.

He reached for his wine again, only to discover that his glass was already empty.

A quiet, humorless laugh escaped him.

"God, how embarrassing."

He placed the glass on the table with a little more force than necessary.

"Do you know what I find most remarkable? Not that you've fallen for another man. I am perfectly aware that a wedding contract cannot dictate the contents of someone's heart."

His eyes lifted to yours.

"No. What astonishes me is that you chose him."

He rose from the chair, the gold detailing of his uniform catching the light as he straightened. His expression was composed again, but the faint crease between his brows betrayed him.

"Of all the men in this kingdom, you chose a fool who wears bells for a living."

He stopped himself, his lips parting as though another insult had nearly escaped.

Then he looked away, running a hand through his hair.

"Forgive me. That was unkind."

The apology sounded genuine.

It also sounded as though it had cost him something.

When he faced you again, his gaze was uncomfortably direct.

"I am not going to pretend that I am pleased. I am not going to smile, congratulate you on your excellent taste in lovers, and wish the two of you a happy life together."

His voice dropped.

"I am your fiancé. Soon, I am supposed to be your husband. And I have discovered that the person I intended to build a life with has been sharing pieces of that life with another man."

For a moment, the prince disappeared beneath the wounded man.

Then his jaw tightened, and the familiar aristocratic mask returned.

"So. We have three options."

He raised one finger.

"You tell me that I am mistaken, and you attempt to convince me that the evidence against you means nothing."

A second finger.

"You tell me the truth, and we discuss what happens next like two adults who are, unfortunately, bound together by a rather inconvenient alliance."

His third finger remained raised for a moment before he slowly lowered his hand.

"Or you leave."

Lucien glanced toward the door.

"I will not pretend I haven't considered what I might do if you chose that option. Nor will I insult you by claiming that I would find it easy to let you go."

He looked back at you, his blue eyes bright with an anger that seemed far too personal to be explained by politics alone.

"But I will not have you standing before me out of fear."

A pause.

His expression softened, just slightly.

"I would rather you tell me that you love him."

He swallowed, the movement almost imperceptible.

"At least then I would know that I had lost to something real."

Midnight had long since passed, and the palace had settled into the sort of silence that only existed when every servant, courtier, and guard believed the day's intrigues had finally come to an end.

Naturally, Lucien was still awake.

Your husband had a habit of working long after the rest of the palace retired, claiming that a kingdom did not govern itself and that sleep was a luxury best enjoyed by people without responsibilities.

You knew better than to believe that was the whole truth.

Lucien enjoyed control. He enjoyed knowing where everyone was, what they wanted, and which secrets they were foolish enough to leave unguarded.

Which made your own secret all the more dangerous.

Vincent.

Even thinking his name made your heart behave like a guilty thing.

You had spent the evening with your lover, stealing precious moments in the secluded gardens before returning to the palace with a perfectly innocent smile. Now, with the memory of Vincent's laughter still lingering in your mind, you found yourself standing outside your husband's chambers.

Perhaps it was guilt.

Perhaps it was affection.

Perhaps you simply wanted to remind yourself that your marriage was not entirely devoid of tenderness, even if your heart had wandered somewhere it had never been meant to go.

Whatever the reason, you had decided to surprise him.

You slipped inside.

Lucien's chambers were illuminated by a handful of candles, their golden light spilling across dark velvet curtains and polished furniture. A fire crackled in the hearth. His formal jacket had been discarded over a chair, and several documents lay scattered across the desk.

The prince himself stood by the window, dressed in a loose black shirt with its collar undone, reading a letter by candlelight.

He looked up at the sound of your footsteps.

For a moment, genuine surprise softened his features.

Then came the smile.

"Well. This is unexpected."

He folded the letter and placed it aside.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of my spouce's company at this ungodly hour? Have you finally decided that your husband deserves a little attention?"

The teasing words were accompanied by a warm, almost boyish glimmer in his golden eyes—an expression rarely witnessed by anyone beyond these private walls.

He crossed the room toward you.

"You know, darling, most people send a servant when they wish to summon me. A few write letters. The particularly desperate ones invent diplomatic emergencies."

He stopped in front of you, his gaze drifting over your face.

"But you simply walk into my chambers."

His smile softened.

"I must admit, I prefer your method."

Lucien reached for your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles before looking up at you again.

"Tell me, what inspired this sudden visit? Have you missed me?"

There was something almost disarming about the question. No courtly audience. No political negotiation. No carefully staged performance for the benefit of the kingdom.

Just your husband, looking at you as though he genuinely wanted to hear your answer.

He drew you closer, giving you ample opportunity to refuse the gesture, and studied your expression with quiet curiosity.

"Or," he continued, his voice dipping into a playful murmur, "have you come to distract me from my work?"

A faint laugh escaped him.

"Because, if that is your intention, my love, I should warn you that I am exceptionally easy to distract when the company is worth my while."

He reached past you to close the door, then returned his attention to you.

For once, he seemed content to let the kingdom wait.

"Come here."

The invitation was gentle rather than commanding, his hand extended toward you.

"Stay with me for a while. Tell me about your evening. Tell me something amusing. Or tell me absolutely nothing at all."

His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles.

"Tonight, I would quite like to have my love to myself."

He smiled, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"Unless, of course, you have somewhere else you'd much rather be."

The words sounded harmless.

Almost teasing.

But Lucien's eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer than necessary, searching your expression with the quiet attentiveness he always had. Brushing your hair away from your face, he saw your eyes, those beautiful windows, leading to an even more beautiful soul. He was always struck by them.

"How about staying here tonight.. I could help you get your mind off of whatever's been bothering you.."

He muttered while his hand touched your thigh, grazing your skin softly.

...