Chapter Three:
Veined marble floors stretched beneath Jules's feet, each step echoing through the vast space. Dark mahogany walls loomed around her, and candlelit chandeliers flickered overhead. The air smelled of leather and smoke, and Jules crinkled her nose.
"Don't touch anything," Lucian ordered.
A tinge of anger flared, and Jules bit the inside of her cheek.
"Wouldn't dream of it," she muttered.
Lucian heard her. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. A broad man emerged, sleeves rolled up, his vest hanging open at his sides. His chestnut hair was cropped short, curling slightly at the tips around his ears. Golden-brown eyes narrowed as they settled on Jules.
"You brought her."
"I did," Lucian replied.
The man's gaze flicked back to Jules.
"I sure hope you know what you're doing, Regent."
Lucian's jaw clenched.
"I didn't ask for your approval," he snapped.
The man dipped his head.
"No. You rarely do."
He turned to face Jules—neither unkind nor gentle.
"You're smaller than I expected."
"Enough, Cassius," Lucian huffed.
Before handing Jules off to him, Lucian stopped her, his voice cold and final.
"You are not my guest.
You are not my equal.
You reside here because I allow it."
Jules's voice trembled, but she refused to back down.
"Then why did you save me?"
Lucian's expression darkened.
"Don't mistake necessity for mercy."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows. Jules couldn't see his face beneath his hood, but his crystal-blue eyes lingered like twin glaciers before vanishing.
Cassius gestured down the hallway.
"Come on, terran."
Jules tilted her head, confused. What nonsense was he talking about?
She followed him slowly, her gaze wandering over the mansion. The halls seemed endless, their chipped white paint revealing dark oak beneath.
"For what it's worth," Cassius said from ahead of her, "you're lucky."
"Funny," Jules shot back. "I feel cursed."
"Same thing, sometimes," he replied.
That sent her thoughts racing.
Cassius stopped at a wooden door and pushed it open. "This is yours."
Jules stepped inside, taking in the space where she would spend eternity. A four-poster canopy bed dominated the room, its dark wood polished smooth. Against the wall sat a wooden chest surrounded by flickering candles. There were no windows—only pale light dancing across the stone walls.
"Does it come with a key?" she asked, turning back.
"No."
"Of course not."
Cassius shut the door behind her, and his presence faded with the shadows.
Jules stood frozen for a moment before moving toward the wooden vanity. Faint grooves marred its surface, worn by time. She sat on the stool—and the girl in the mirror did not move with her.
Her skin was unnaturally pale, drained of every trace of warmth. Her eyes had darkened—still crystal blue, but dimmed, as though the light inside them had gone out.
Ice met ice.
Jules swallowed, but her expression remained tense, lifeless. In that moment, she realized her greatest threat was no longer the council—
It was herself.