As she neared the door, Isabella slowly turned back to him, her expression cold as ice, with anger radiating from every line of her body.
Her blue eyes, usually so composed, now glinted with barely restrained fury as she regarded her younger brother with contempt.
She scoffed disdainfully, her voice laced with venom. “You are ridiculous, Lucian. Foolish and utterly absurd.”
She paused, fixing him with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “Mark my words, little brother — if this is another one of your sick, twisted jokes, I will make you regret it. I don’t care what games you play, but stay out of my way.”
Lucian leaned back with a devilish grin, the thrill of their verbal sparring fueling his dark desires. “Oh, but what if I’m right? Are you truly willing to gamble on that, my dear sister? The stakes are high, after all. You wouldn’t want to be caught unaware, would you?”
Isabella’s frown deepened, her silence brimming with rage as she cursed his insolence inwardly. She clenched her fists, struggling to maintain her composure.
“Mother would have told me if something like this were true,” she retorted, though there was a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.
“Would she?” Lucian’s voice dropped to a low, mocking tone, dripping with malice. “Or would she have kept it from you, to protect her precious daughter from the harsh reality? Perhaps she’s simply too afraid of what you might do if you knew the truth. After all, what could be more politically damaging than a royal princess sold off like a common bargaining chip?”
He let the implication hang in the air, watching the storm of emotions play across her face.
Lucian relished the turmoil he had stirred within her, his thoughts darkly amused by the prospect of watching her unravel.
“Face it, Isabella. In this empire, even those with royal blood are nothing more than pieces in a grander game. And you, my dear sister, are just as expendable as the rest.”
Isabella stood there, rooted to the spot, her fury mingling with the cold dread that crept into her heart. The idea that her own mother might keep such a truth from her gnawed at her resolve.
Lucian’s words, though wicked, had a chilling logic she couldn’t entirely dismiss.
Lucian shrugged casually, his gaze full of wicked amusement. “You’ll never know unless you ask her, sister dear. The Empress is already dealing with her own fate, after all. Perhaps she knows, perhaps she doesn’t — but does it really matter? Whether she’s kept you in the dark or not, you’re still just another pawn in this grand game of power. How very fitting for our so-called royal family.”
Seeing her hesitation, Lucian pressed on, his voice dripping with false concern, “You see, Isabella, knowledge is power. And if you don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, how can you hope to play the game? But don’t worry, sister dear, I could always help you… for a price.”
Isabella’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but for the first time, Lucian noticed a flicker of doubt in them.
Satisfied, he simply sat back and watched as she wrestled with her thoughts, knowing full well that the seeds of distrust he had planted would soon bear fruit.
“Enough,” she spat, her anger bubbling to the surface once again.
“Come down from your high horse, sister. You can’t always have your way, just like how mother wasn’t able to have hers. You might think you’re strong, but sooner or later, you’ll have to accept that your fate is not yours to control.”
“Father Emperor had already made his choice, and no one can stand in his way. It’s better to embrace it rather than waste your energy trying to fight it.”
“You talk as if you have any say in the matter,” she retorted coldly. Having calming down a bit she returned to her seat, sipping the tea Lucian had poured for her earlier.
“How do you even know Royal Father is planning to marry me off?” she asked quietly.
“I have my ways of gathering information. You know that, sister dear.”
“And what ways are those?”
“Secrets, secrets,” he replied, wiggling his finger at her.
Seeing that arrogant grin on his face, Isabella couldn’t hold back her frustration. She turned her back to him, fighting back the urge to punch him in the face.
To be reduced to a political pawn, something to be thrown away once her usefulness had ended. Sigh…
“But if you want, I can help you to get out of this engagement. All you have to do is let me give you a little…uh, how should I put it…personal service, so to speak.” Lucian’s tone dripped with lewd suggestions, and his gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting with a hint of dark passion.
Turning back around, Isabella studied her brother carefully.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
“Ah, my dear sister, don’t be so quick to judge.”
Lucian rose from his seat, his movements smooth and predatory, like a shadow creeping closer.
He glided toward her with a languid grace, closing the distance between them in a few measured steps.
Suddenly, he leaned forward, his face hovering just inches from hers.
He breathed in deeply, savoring the intoxicating mix of her warm, sweet breath and the delicate perfume of her skin.
Up close, her beauty was even more striking — her flawless face framed by luxurious blue hair that cascaded like a silken waterfall over her shoulders.
Her eyes, normally cold and calculating, betrayed a flicker of vulnerability beneath the simmering rage she tried so desperately to hide.
Lucian’s gaze lingered on her lips, full and inviting, as he inhaled the subtle orchid-like fragrance that clung to her skin.
He leaned in closer still, so near that their lips were almost touching, the tension between them palpable.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and humiliation as her cheeks flushed with heat.
He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Everyone in the Royal Court already accepted your fate, sister dear. Yet, you continue to resist, like a rabbit facing a pack of wolves. Your resistance won’t last for long.”
“As if that would stop me,” she resisted the urge to spit, turning her face away in a show of defiance. “I’d rather die than be used as a tool in Father’s plans.”
Lucian shook his head, his expression turning solemn. “Oh, dear sister, that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.”
He paused, his eyes sparkling with something she couldn’t quite identify.
“How can I let such a beauty die like that, not even experiencing all the pleasures life has to offer?” he whispered, his voice laced with intrigue.
Suddenly, Lucian reached out, his fingers caressing her pale cheeks.
She instinctively tried to slap his hand away, but he was too quick, his fingers grasping her wrist tightly.
“Let me go! How dare you touch me!?” she growled, struggling to free herself. But Lucian only tightened his grip, his eyes blazing with dark passion.
“You should know only I can help you now. Father will announce your marriage at any moment, and you will have no choice but to follow his every command.”
Her lips were trembling with anger and frustration, yet the words caught in her throat.
Seeing her not resisting anymore, Lucian moved even closer, his warm breath tickling her neck.
“So stop playing the heroine,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark allure. His fingers traced her neck, the touch so light it was almost a whisper against her skin.
Slowly, deliberately, he let his nails graze her, sending a shiver of strange, forbidden pleasure through her.
Lucian’s hand moved to her face, gently brushing a strand of hair aside. His fingers lingered, caressing her cheek with a sensual, deliberate slowness.
The way he touched her was both intimate and possessive, like he was savoring every inch of her skin.
She could feel his breath, warm and tantalizing, as he leaned closer. Her heart raced, and though she wanted to move away, to escape the dangerous pull he had on her, her body refused to obey.
Instead, it seemed to melt into his touch, a warmth spreading through her as his fingers traced down to her lips, grazing them with a lewd, lingering tenderness.
Her breath hitched, a soft, involuntary moans escaping her as she felt the line between fear and desire blur.
The way he touched her, the way he looked at her, it was as if he was claiming her, bit by bit, and some treacherous part of her didn’t want him to stop.
“Just accept me, I’ll show you the way.” His voice was a mix of charm and intrigue, and his eyes shone with a hint of wickedness.
She shuddered at the look in his eyes, at the intensity and raw desire in his gaze.
This was the first time she saw this side of her brother. This side of him was foreign, unsettling, and she could feel a sliver of fear creeping into her heart.
‘Could it be that even Royal Father is unaware of this aspect of Lucian?’
As if sensing her discomfort, Lucian immediately loosened his grip.
Lucian slowly moved behind her, his hands gliding over her shoulders before settling on her slender, pale neck.
His fingers traced her soft skin with a slow, deliberate caress, sending shivers down her spine. He could feel her tension, the way she stiffened beneath his touch, her breath hitching just slightly.
Resisting the urge to push further, he kept his touch teasing, skimming just close enough to stir something within her but not enough to cross the line.
She remained still, but her body tense and rigid, as if frozen in place, yet a faint, almost inaudible moan escaped her lips, betraying the subtle effect of his touch.
“You said mother is struggling with something? What are you talking about, Lucian? I know nothing about this,” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, but her soft moans betrayed her, slipping through despite her affords to remain composed.
Lucian’s smirk widened as he moved to take her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
The slight tremble of her lips as he lifted her chin didn’t go unnoticed, and it only fueled his dark amusement.
“Telling you will only spoil the fun. Don’t you think? That’s something delicious, I want to slowly savor.”