"I never asked you to protect me," she whispered.
"No," he said, his voice low. "But I'm doing it anyway."
A silence settled between them, thick and full of unsaid things.
Then, Lucien turned and lit another lantern near the desk. "You'll sleep here. There's a cot behind the curtain. I'll have Rowan bring some of your clothes. You're not to leave this room unless I say so. Understood?"
Liora hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."
He paused before leaving. "And Liora…"
She looked up.
"Keep the journal close. No one else is to touch it. Not even Rowan."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Left alone, she approached the heavy desk, her fingers brushing across its rough wood. It was littered with maps—old ones—showing not just the palace but the secret tunnels underneath, the forgotten routes once used by soldiers and spies. Her eyes widened as she realized what Lucien had been building all this time: a war beneath a throne.
Her war, now.
