After sitting there for a mont in silence, Selene finally exhaled a slow breath, her eyes avoiding his. The tension between them lingered like a stubborn shadow, the echo of their earlier exchange still heavy in the air. Lucas had stopped massaging her shoulders, his hands now resting idly at his sides, yet his expression remained calm, unbothered by the storm quietly brewing within her.
She straightened up, smoothing the front of her robe with deliberate slowness, as though the small act could help her regain so semblance of composure. "I should go," she said quietly, her voice lacking its usual sharpness. It wasn’t a statent ant to provoke a reaction; it was the tone of soone choosing to withdraw before saying sothing they might regret.
Selene wasn’t angry, not exactly. No, what burned in her chest was sothing far more unsettling: the quiet sting of humiliation. Lucas’s words from earlier replayed in her mind, each syllable pricking at her pride.
He likes her because she’s humble... because she listens to him.
It wasn’t the fact that he had admitted to preferring Lira that unsettled her the most, it was that he had said it without a hint of hesitation, as though it were simply the truth, as undeniable as the sky being blue or the ground beneath their feet being solid. That confidence in his own words, that lack of doubt, cut deeper than she had expected.
She told herself that she didn’t care what Lucas thought. She told herself that she was above such petty comparisons. And yet... her mind drifted back to the earlier encounter in the hallway, the one where Lira had stood in her path, delivering her calm warning without so much as a glance back.
She rembered the subtle curve of Lira’s lips, enough to suggest an unspoken triumph. It was the sort of expression that said, I’m already where you want to be.
That image clung stubbornly to Selene’s thoughts as she turned toward the door. She could almost hear Lira’s voice again, soft yet firm: Do not disturb Master. I did warn you.
Selene’s hands clenched at her sides. She hated the idea of anyone...least of all Lira...seeing her in this state. She would not give that woman the satisfaction of knowing her words had found their mark.
"I’ll leave you to your studies," she said softly, though there was still a trace of sothing wounded in her tone.
He gave a small nod. "Alright... I’ll walk you out."
They moved toward the door in silence. Lucas didn’t push for any more conversation; he could still feel the faint weight of their earlier exchange lingering between them like a shadow. At the threshold, just before she stepped out, he spoke again, his voice quieter this ti.
"Selene... I’m sorry. Again. I shouldn’t have lost my temper."
Her eyes t his, and for the briefest mont, the polite mask slipped. She gave a small nod, then turned and left without another word.
Lucas stood there for a mont after closing the door, letting the silence settle in. He walked back toward his table, his steps slow and thoughtful. The Core of Dominion still sat there in the center of the table, its surface faintly pulsing with a dim, almost living light. Beside it, Sage Raph’s handwritten notes lay neatly stacked, their inked diagrams and precise script calling to him.
He stood over the table, staring down at both for a while without moving. His mind slowly began to slide back into the rhythm of analysis, thoughts about the energy flow patterns, the contradictions in the old master’s annotations, the possible missing links between the core’s resonance and its intended wielder.
Just as he was starting to sink into that focus again, a sharp knock sounded from the door.
Lucas blinked and straightened, his brow furrowing.
"Lira?" he called lightly, but then frowned. No, that couldn’t be. Lira doesn’t knock anymore, she’d just walk in without ceremony, arms full of whatever she was carrying or words tumbling out before he even had a chance to look up.
Another knock, patient but firm.
He moved toward the door, his curiosity stirred. As soon as he pulled it open, a voice greeted him, a voice he recognized instantly, though he hadn’t expected to hear it here, much less directed at him.
"Xavier" the voice said, smooth and self-assured.
It was Princess Nyx.
She stood there in the doorway, dressed in a deep midnight-blue gown that seed to drink in the light, her long hair cascading over one shoulder like ink spilling across silk.
Lucas froze for a heartbeat, genuinely surprised she had co in person. Of all the visitors he might have expected, the princess herself was not one of them.
"Your Highness..." he said slowly, still trying to read her expression. "This is... unexpected."
Princess Nyx stepped into the chamber with that sa unshakable elegance that seed to cling to her no matter the setting. Her head was slightly inclined, not in subservience, but in a guarded manner that kept her eyes from locking with Lucas’s.
Lucas didn’t miss a thing. He noticed the faintest flush painting her cheeks, a warmth that didn’t belong to the cold dignity she usually carried. He knew exactly where it ca from. It was because of their last encounter, when he had massaged her in her own chamber.
That mory had been enough to make her avoid him, at least, avoid him in the visible sense. He could tell she still lingered near places where she knew he might pass by. He caught her glancing from across the courtyard when she thought no one was looking, or pausing ever so slightly if she heard his voice from another room. She was longing, aching, even, for that touch again. But Nyx was Nyx: proud, refined, a princess whose very nature would not allow her to simply walk up and admit it.
If not for that pride, Lucas was sure she would already be in his arms right now, hugging him, pressing her lips to his, letting that strict royal façade lt away in the warmth of his embrace. But instead, she kept her composure like a perfectly carved statue, every movent controlled, every breath asured.
"Your Highness," he said evenly, the barest flicker of a knowing smile touching his lips. With a smooth gesture, he motioned toward a chair near his desk. "Please, sit."
Nyx stepped forward with slow grace. She lowered herself into the chair as though it were a throne, her posture regal, her head still slightly turned away so she wouldn’t have to et his gaze directly. Her fingers folded neatly in her lap, and though her expression was calm, Lucas saw the tiniest tremor in the way she adjusted her sleeve, an unconscious tell of her unsettled thoughts.
Lucas crossed the room toward the tall glass cabinet that held his carefully curated wine collection. The polished shelves glead under the warm lamplight, each bottle resting like a treasure in its own slot. He ran his fingers lightly along the necks of a few before glancing over his shoulder at Nyx.
"What would you like to drink, Your Highness?" His tone was polite, but there was a subtle playfulness beneath it.
She hesitated for only a breath before speaking. "Sothing strong."
Lucas paused mid-motion, his hand resting on the corked head of a dark crimson vintage. One eyebrow lifted in mild surprise. "A strong wine?" he echoed, turning slightly toward her. "Well, well... the Princess is not so soft after all."
Nyx’s lips curved into the faintest smirk before she gave a short, dismissive scoff, as if daring him to expect anything less. Without waiting for him to pour, she rose from her seat, her movent fluid and decisive. The faint rustle of her robe followed her as she crossed the space between them.
Before Lucas could react, her hand closed around the bottle he had been holding. She pulled it from his grasp with effortless confidence, the gesture both refined and rebellious. Without ceremony, she worked the cork free in a swift motion and brought the bottle to her lips.
The deep red liquid swirled as she tipped it back, taking a generous mouthful before lowering the bottle again. The fragrance of the wine drifted through the air, rich and heady.
Lucas stood there watching her, one corner of his mouth tugging upward, though his eyes carried an unspoken intrigue. She noticed his gaze lingering and tilted her head slightly.
"Why are you looking at like that?" she asked, a challenge woven into her voice.
"I’m just surprised," Lucas replied calmly, "to see a princess acting like a commoner."
Nyx’s response ca not in words but in a light, genuine laugh, a sound rare from her in private, and rarer still in public. She raised the bottle again, taking another asured gulp before lowering it.
"It’s not bad," she said, her tone warm yet edged with amusent, "to act like a commoner when I’m away from the public eye."
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