By the time Lucien returned from the palace that evening, the corridors of his estate were quiet. The servants had long since retired to their quarters, and the soft glow of the wall lamps guided his steps through the hall. His shoulders ached from the long meetings and the weight of decisions made throughout the day. It had been one of those days when even his patience was tested.
He did not head to his chambers immediately. Instead, he walked to his library, the familiar scent of parchment and aged wood greeting him as he pushed the door open. The space was still and orderly, his desk just as he had left it that morning. He spent some time there, sorting through correspondence and signing a few pending documents. The quiet was a relief after the noise of the palace.
A knock came at the door, and Darian stepped inside without waiting for a formal invitation.
