Morning found Seraphina tangled in Lucian's embrace, sunlight leaking in through velvet curtains, the palace unusually quiet. She pressed kisses to his jaw, tracing sleepy circles over his chest, letting herself soak in the peace that came in the dark before the day's storms. His fingers drifted down her spine, skin to skin, and she melted into him—no crowns, no titles, just heartbeats and heat.
"Shouldn't you be lecturing a council by now?" Lucian asked, voice husky as he ran his hands along her bare waist, thumbing the edge of her wing.
She grinned, rolling atop him, hair tumbling over his face like a golden sheet. "Maybe they'll solve the world's problems without me for once." She kissed him deeply, hips aligning with his, sparks threatening to start a fire neither had time to put out. Each touch reminded her of last night, every thrill, every sweet ache he left in her body.
A knock at the door broke their spell. Her twin's dry voice filtered through. "Break up your lovefest, trouble magnets. We've got new guests—and they're not the friendly sort."
Seraphina shouted back, "Give us five!" There was a very undignified laugh from the hallway. Lucian grinned, leaning up to whisper, "I'll make it three, if you promise to come right back to bed after."
She slipped into a robe—barely—while Lucian barely managed a tunic. They strode together down labyrinthine halls, hands brushing, the ease of last night's intimacy still tingling in every step. In the main entrance, a delegation from the southern front waited: all steely eyes, polished buttons, and veiled threats. Their leader, a tall woman with a scar across her lips, gave a mocking bow.
"Word is you've taken in strays. We're here to collect a debt, not watch a fairy tale." Her gaze flicked from Lucian to Seraphina, daring them to flinch.
Seraphina only smiled, lethal and sweet. "In this court, debts are paid in negotiation, not blood. You want something? Take a seat and ask nicely."
Tension buzzed as all sides measured each other, power shifting in the room like a living thing. But Lucian—standing close, shadow and strength—made it clear: nobody threatened this kingdom, or the people in it, without going through him.
By afternoon, the air had changed: deals made, threats softened into wary alliances. As the last guest departed, Seraphina let herself sag against Lucian's chest, laughter tumbling out, breathless from tension and relief alike.
"You looked ready to start a war," he teased, lips grazing her ear.
"Only if you promised to finish it with me," she whispered back.
Up in her chamber that night, as dawn threatened and the city slept, Seraphina realized two things: their kingdom would never be safe—but as long as she had Lucian's magic-forged passion and her twin's stubborn loyalty, she was ready for whatever the world could throw her way.
And tomorrow, she thought—turning eagerly toward Lucian, letting herself burn again—tomorrow could wait.