Lucien woke up with a dull ache in his temples. His eyes adjusted slowly to the soft light filtering through the curtains, and for a brief moment, he wasn't sure where he was. Then the scent of unfamiliar perfume hit him. He shifted, feeling the weight of another body beside him.
His gaze fell on "Isadora," lying with her back turned to him, hair spilling across the pillow. The blanket was tangled around them, and when he realized they were both unclothed, his jaw tightened.
What happened last night?
He tried to remember—tried to trace the evening back in his mind—but the memories blurred after a certain point. He remembered the puppy… the way she had seemed strangely disinterested, almost irritated. Then nothing.
A cold unease settled over him.
Before he could dwell on it, a knock came at the door. "Your Grace, a messenger from the palace. His Majesty requests your presence immediately."
