Standing before Lucian was a breathtakingly beautiful woman in her early 20s, radiating an aura of regal elegance.
She wore a luxurious royal gown, deep sapphire in color, which clung perfectly to her hourglass figure, accentuating every curve.
The gown was embroidered with intricate silver patterns that shimmered as she moved, the fabric flowing like liquid velvet around her.
Her blue hair cascaded down her back like a shimmering waterfall, each strand catching the sunlight and creating a striking contrast against her flawlessly pale skin.
Just like the Empress herself, Isabella Celestian possessed this rare and vivid hue. As the only daughter of the Empress, Isabella’s appearance was both regal and mesmerizing, embodying a grace and elegance that spoke of her noble heritage.
Her lips were a soft shade of pink, full and inviting, while her deep blue eyes, framed by long lashes, sparkled like the ocean yet held a depth of mystery and distance that few dared to breach.
Her chest was snugly fitted within the bodice of the gown, which hugged her form so tightly that it left little to the imagination, emphasizing the generous swell of her breasts.
Her rear, naturally curvaceous and voluptuous, was accentuated further by the gown’s perfect tailoring, though it was clear that its fullness and shape owed nothing to the dress — it was all her.
Atop her head sat a small, intricately designed crown, glimmering in the sunlight with delicate jewels embedded in its gold. The crown was a symbol of her status, but it was her cold demeanor that truly commanded attention.
Her expression was one of icy indifference, and her eyes, though strikingly beautiful, held a hint of contempt, as if the world beneath her was hardly worth her notice.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my dear older sister,” Lucian drawled, leaning back in his seat with a lazy confidence, his arms casually folded behind his head.
His eyes roamed over her figure, lingering with a devilish gleam on the plump curves that strained against her dress, as if savoring every detail.
There was a predatory hunger in his gaze, a subtle, wicked appreciation for the sight before him.
Finally, his eyes met hers, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “You know, I was just thinking about you,” he purred, his voice laced with dark amusement.
“It seems fate has a twisted sense of humor, bringing us together like this.” The words dripped with a mix of charm and something far more sinister, as if he was toying with her even in this moment.
“Destiny, or perhaps fate bringing us together?” she retorted coolly as she walked toward a chair opposite him.
With a practiced grace, she lowered herself into the seat, her gown shifting to reveal a hint of her slender legs. The movement was deliberate, subtly emphasizing her poise and the bare skin glimpsed beneath the fabric.
Her gaze fell on the tea set in front of them, and she sneered disdainfully. “Do you even have a clue what proper etiquette for a royal prince is? Your manners are simply abominable.”
“Oh, but that’s what makes me charming, don’t you think?” Lucian replied smoothly, pouring a cup of tea and placing it in front of her.
“Besides, I’m always happy to please. You seem like you could use a little…pleasure in your life.”
Lucian leaned forward, his voice lowering slightly as he stared deeply into her eyes. “I know a few ways to take your mind off your worries, if you’re interested.”
“In your dreams, little brother,” she scoffed, turning her nose up at him.
“Ah, so you’ve thought of me in your dreams, have you? I’m touched.”
“No, I’ve thought of strangling you in your sleep, more like it.”
“Would that not defeat the purpose? Tell me, how can you murder me without my consent?”
“Don’t test me, Lucian. You know I would gladly get my hands dirty if the time called for it.”
“So do I, which is why I’ll always be one step ahead of you.”
“That’s to be expected from a bastard. Your mother’s influence no doubt made you just as despicable as she was.”
“As if you have any room to talk, being the so-called princess of this Empire,” Lucian shot back, his voice laced with venom. “Maybe it’s fitting that you know all about bastards, considering you’re so well-acquainted with them.”
“At least I have actual royal blood running through my veins. But to think that a concubine’s child has the nerve to call himself a prince, how ironic,” she laughed mockingly.
“A concubine’s son or not, I am still a true Prince of the Celestian Empire.”
“Oh really? True Princes don’t indulge their desires like commoners. Start acting like one, and maybe we’ll talk.”
“Act like one, huh? And who are you to set the standard?” Lucian’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You’re just another pawn in Father Emperor’s game, destined for a political marriage with the son of the Sky Empire to further his ambitions.”
Her face twisted with anger. “What are you implying?”
Lucian smirked, enjoying the crack in her composure. “Oh, you don’t know? How amusing. Father Emperor was discussing with our dear elder brother about your impending marriage to Prince Aaron of the Sky Empire. It’s all about strengthening the Empire’s alliance with them, after all.
So, tell me, my sister dear, how can a woman claim to be a strong politician when she’s reduced to a mere bargaining chip in such a humiliating arrangement?”
He grinned like a madman as the realization dawned on her face.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she bit down, trying to restrain the turmoil within her. Her usually composed eyes were now ablaze with fury, and her face grew pale as the weight of his words sank in.
“That’s impossible! I refuse to believe this. You’re just making things up!”
“Am I?” Lucian’s chuckle was soft, almost mocking. “Didn’t you notice the envoys from the Sky Empire arriving recently? They weren’t here just for a casual visit, sister. They were here to discuss your future.”
Lucian’s eyes sparkled with malicious glee as he continued, “So tell me, my dear sister, who’s more pathetic? The bastard son of a concubine, or the royal daughter forced to marry a man she’s never even met just to satisfy a man’s ego?”
Her body trembled with barely-contained rage, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her pale face was flushed with a mix of humiliation and fury as she shot him a menacing glare.
“Keep talking, and you won’t live to regret it, little brother,” she hissed, her voice dangerously low, vibrating with suppressed anger.
Lucian, pretending to be oblivious to the seething rage pouring off her, leaned in closer, his smile widening innocently. “Why so upset, sister dear? Is it the truth that bothers you, or just the fact that you’re powerless to change it?”
Seeing her behavior escalate, Lucian continued with a mocking tone, savoring the way her composure was slipping.
“But how can I bear to see my beloved sister reduced to a mere political pawn? To think of you as just another piece of meat to be tossed around…” Lucian’s voice dripped with mock sympathy.
“How dare you?” she cried out, leaping to her feet, her eyes blazing with fury.
Lucian felt a rush of dark exhilaration at her explosive reaction. He leaned back, sipping his tea with deliberate calm, savoring every moment of her turmoil.
“What’s wrong, my dear sister?” he drawled, his gaze lingering on her as if she were a tempting delicacy. “You’re so proud of your precious heritage, yet you’re about to be married off to a man you’ve never even met.”
He took another leisurely sip of his tea, all the while letting his lecherous eyes rove over her curves, clearly relishing the view.
Seeing Isabella about to leave the pagoda where they were seated, he called out with a feigned tone of concern.
“But you see, I can offer you some… assistance,” he said with a perverted smirk. “Imagine how much more enjoyable your life could be if you embraced your true nature. Why settle for being a pawn when you could be a pleasure-seeking queen under my guidance?”