Page 25 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“More horrifying than I could have ever imagined.”

Suddenly he was too close, too warm. The faint aroma of sandalwood sent my heart spinning and made my mouth go dry as I stared at the man before me. The one whose lap I still sat in.

I leaped away from him, nearly falling over the table with my awkward limbs. Lucien reached for me, but I jerked back, hurrying around the seating area. I didn’t spare him a backward glance before I practically ran to my little room, threw open the door, and slammed it behind me.

Breaths came in short gasps as I flung myself down on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

Not a monster. He’s…

My fist slammed into the thin coverings.

Why did I think drinking so much was a good idea? I’d wanted to drown my thoughts, forget my failures and the title I’d lost. But instead of escape, the red wine pulled me further into misery. It was impossible to deny the warm tingling low in my core. But it couldn’t be because ofhim, his touch, his fair appearance.It’s the wine. It has to be.

Or an illusion.

The thought washed over me like a gentle rain. It settled my racing heart and loosened some of the knots that had twisted tight within me.

That’s right, he was a master of illusion, of magic. That couldn’t be his face. I wouldn’t be attracted to someone as awful as him.

The sweet ache between my legs taunted me, refusing to let me deny the truth my body told. Yes, I’d planned to seduce him, but it hadn’t been entirely an act. Not tonight.

Magic. It had to be magic.

A faint knock pulled my attention like a thread caught on a nail. No words left my open mouth as I strained my ears listening for the sound to come again, for Lucien to speak, for anything.

When silence stretched, I settled into the bed, convinced my hazy mind created an illusion of its own from my racing thoughts.

Lucien’s face haunted my tipsy mind all night as I lay awake, a mess of wine and emotions. He appeared in my dreams too. Instead of the fearsome warrior who demanded our surrender in the throne room of Sorrena, clad head to toe in armor, I saw the man beneath.

Or whatever image he’d projected for me to see.

And it undid me.

He looked like a gentleman with combed hair, tailored clothing, and a jeweled necklace that accented the silver buttons on his jacket. He was regal, refined. Nothing like the man I knew him to be.

With morning came clarity. I had bigger things to think about than the male who held me captive. Namely, the letter and whoever had asked the maid to send it.

After Emperor Ryszard appeared during breakfast to announce a feast for the changing of seasons, I strolled through the gardens with Gabriel, Elin, and Fernand. I only planned to warn them of the letter and possible interrogation, but Fernand’s expression spoke volumes. It was easy enough for me to sort out the puzzle of his wide-eyed edginess. He’d coerced the maid into sending the letter.

I didn’t reveal his secret to the others. He could do that himself in due time.

Fernand made a grave mistake working on his own without involving us, but he’d slipped the noose—for now. Unfortunately, this would make sending out information more difficult. We’d need a better plan, and Lucien might be the key to that if I could get him to trust me. Judging by the way he’d given in and removed his helm, even if he’d likely shown me an illusion, I was well on my way to achieving that goal.

* * *

That night,I waited for Lucien.

I paced back and forth near the balcony, trying to distract my thoughts. If he’d beaten me back to his quarters, I’d have to wait another day or hope something pulled him away from his room before I fell asleep—however unlikely that may be.

“Please don’t let there be another letter debacle.” A cool breeze stole my muttered words and sent a shiver across the exposed skin of my arms. The change of seasons would be upon us soon.

Maybe Lucien could tell me what happened to the maid, though part of me dreaded to know. I’d already whispered two prayers. One to ask Erabus, God of Darkness, to allow her into his halls of rest if the worst had happened. Another to Soliel, God of Light, to help me see past Lucien’s magic. Since Lucien’s magic belonged to Erabus, only his opposite, Soliel, had any hope of dampening his powers.

On the one hand, I admired Fernand’s tenacity and eagerness to get information out of the castle. But I also pitied his wife. It didn’t take much creativity to reason out how he’d gotten the maid’s staunch loyalty. The thought alone made me cringe. Having someone at home and betraying them that way wouldn’t be possible for me. Thankfully, I had no such lover.

The sun had long set by the time the door cracked open to reveal Lucien—shoulders stiff, attention far away.

“Good evening.” I crossed to him in long strides. “I have two questions for you.”

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