The chamber door slammed against the stone wall. Dorian stumbled as Lucien's hand caught his collar, dragging him into the dimly lit room.
Lucien's voice was low, steady, and more dangerous than a shout. "You had one task."
Dorian barely had time to raise his arms before the first blow landed. The second split his lip. Lucien didn't hit wildly; each strike was precise and controlled punishment. Again and again and again. Until the knight curled up into himself, gasping for air and groaning in pain.
"You were supposed to ensure that things went smoothly," Lucien hissed, pacing between each word, fangs completely bared. "And yet the maid blurts my plan in the middle of the hall like a street vendor selling gossip."
Dorian's breathing came uneven. "I-it wasn't me."
Lucien turned sharply. "Wasn't you?" He seized Dorian by the jaw, forcing him to look up. "You think I didn't see you hesitate? You were soft with the girl. You let her get nervous. You—"
