Morning light streamed through the curtains, golden and unforgiving. Gabriel Flynn stirred as the rays kissed his face, drawing a groan from his lips. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand while bracing an elbow on his raised knee. The scent of perfume, wine, and lingering desire hung heavy in the air.
Beside him lay three women bare and tangled in silk sheets, their hair tousled from the night's pleasures.
"My lord," one of them cooed lazily, reaching for him. "Must you leave so soon? We could help you greet the morning… properly."
Gabriel smiled faintly, the charm in his eyes dulled by routine. "Last night was delightful. You'll receive your payment shortly."
He slipped on his robe, offering no further words, and exited the chamber.
"Such a fine lord," one of the women whispered with a giggle as they melted back into the bed, content and already half-asleep.
Down the corridor, Gabriel strolled through the palace with deliberate ease. The maids bowed as he passed, murmuring respectful greetings.
"Good morning, Lord Flynn."
He gave a small nod but said nothing, his mind already drifting elsewhere. A guard trailed behind him in silence.
Meanwhile, in the emperor's east wing, Lola stirred beneath a canopy of embroidered velvet. Her eyes fluttered open to a curious sight. Emperor Xander seated at a nearby desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment and sealed documents. His brows were furrowed, his quill scratching steadily.
"You spent the night here?" she asked, her voice still laced with sleep.
He hummed in response, not bothering to look up.
"You know you didn't have to. I'm capable of managing on my own."
At last, he glanced up. "You're my guest. And this palace is a battlefield dressed in silk. The court ladies are not as harmless as they appear. I wouldn't put your safety in their hands."
She sat upright, arms folded. "Then why keep so many women around if you know what they're capable of?"
Xander exhaled slowly. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't. Most were sent here as pawns, gifts and leverage from ambitious fathers when my father still ruled. They've been here since they were girls. But you…" he paused, eyes softening just a touch. "You are important to me. I wouldn't want you leaving here bruised or broken. What would that say about my rule?"
His smile was brief, almost shy and yet it struck Lola's heart with unexpected force.
Her voice dropped. "Then why declare me as your acting queen? You've painted a target on my back."
"It was the only way to keep you safe," he replied, matter-of-factly. "If I'm to be tied up in council meetings, I need them to know you're under my protection."
Lola huffed. "You give the wrong impression, your highness. People might assume you're... in love."
Xander tilted his head, eyes twinkling. "And would that be so hard to believe?"
She blinked, caught off guard. "You're such a tease."
"I never said I wasn't."
Lola threw him a look, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"If I may ask," she ventured, changing the subject, "what requires so much of your attention this morning?"
He set his quill down. "I'm hosting a masquerade ball. A grand affair to court new alliances. But before that, there's a council meeting, several hours of old men arguing in circles. Would you accompany me?"
She hesitated, fingers nervously twisting in her lap. "I'll… think about it."
Xander nodded. "I'll be honored if you do."
Their eyes met, a moment too long, too weighted with unspoken words.
Just then, the doors burst open.
"Your Majesty!" a guard called, bowing deeply. "Apologies for the intrusion. Lord Flynn has requested an urgent audience. It concerns… Lady Cavendish."
The air turned cold.
Xander stood, his expression shifting instantly from warmth to steel.
"Bring him in."