chapter 6

Lucian jolted awake, his heightened wolf senses instantly on high alert as the blaring alarm echoed through the halls of the palace. His instincts kicked in, and he leapt out of bed, grabbing the dagger he kept hidden beneath his pillow. The intruder alarm wasn't something to take lightly—his palace was a fortress, and anyone who managed to get inside was either very skilled or very stupid.

He didn't bother with a robe, stepping out of his room in just his linen shirt and trousers. But the moment the door creaked open, he found himself staring down the sharp edge of a sword pressed firmly against his throat.

"Not a step closer," the figure hissed. They were cloaked in black, their face obscured by a hood.

Lucian's wolf instincts flared, his muscles coiling as he prepared to disarm the intruder. But then, the figure tilted their head back and let out a laugh—a laugh he recognized immediately.

"Amily?" he growled, his voice a mix of disbelief and irritation.

She pulled back the hood dramatically, grinning as she lowered the sword. "Surprise!"

Lucian rubbed his temples, glaring at her. "You broke into my palace, set off the alarms, and nearly gave me a heart attack—all for what? A laugh?"

Amily shrugged, spinning the sword lazily in her hand before sheathing it. "Not just for a laugh. I also wanted to see if you'd gotten slower since the last time I saw you. Spoiler alert: you haven't."

He crossed his arms, trying to mask his relief that she was standing in front of him. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?"

She ignored him entirely, strolling past and heading straight for the small table in the corner of his room where a bottle of whiskey rested. Without so much as a glance back at him, she grabbed the bottle, popped the cork, and took a long swig straight from it.

Lucian stared, torn between outrage and amusement. "That's a hundred-year-old whiskey."

She smacked her lips, setting the bottle down with a satisfied sigh. "Tastes like a hundred years, too. You royals sure know how to live."

"Amily." His tone was sharp now, and she finally turned to face him, her grin unrepentant.

"What? Don't tell me you weren't happy to see me."

Lucian's jaw tightened. "You vanished without a word. I've had people searching for you."

Her grin faltered slightly, but she quickly covered it with a playful shrug. "Relax, Your Majesty. I wasn't exactly lost. I just needed some air. And maybe a little distance from my sister before I strangled her."

Lucian's golden eyes narrowed. "You could have told me."

Amily sighed, her playful demeanor softening for a moment. "Look, I'm not exactly the 'goodbye' type. Besides, you've got enough on your plate without me adding to it."

Lucian took a step closer, his voice low. "You don't get to decide what's 'too much' for me. If you're going to vanish, at least let me know why."

Amily met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I don't like being tied down, Lucian. Not to people, not to places, and definitely not to expectations."

He studied her for a long moment, his frustration ebbing into something softer. "And yet, here you are. In my palace. Waving a sword at me and drinking my whiskey."

She smirked, the tension breaking. "What can I say? I'm full of contradictions."

Lucian couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "You're something, alright."

Before either of them could say more, the sound of running footsteps echoed in the hall. Edgar appeared in the doorway, flanked by two guards, his expression caught somewhere between relief and exasperation.

"Your Majesty, the alarms—" Edgar began, but then he spotted Amily, still holding the whiskey bottle, and his words trailed off.

"It's fine, Edgar," Lucian said, waving a hand. "False alarm."

Amily grinned, lifting the bottle in a mock toast. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Edgar's gaze flicked between Lucian and Amily, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Shall I inform the guards to stand down, then?"

"Please," Lucian said, sighing.

As Edgar left, muttering something under his breath about "unorthodox visitors," Lucian turned back to Amily. "You're lucky I didn't shift and take you down on instinct."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You're lucky I didn't actually stab you. My aim's pretty good."

He shook his head, his smile returning. "Why are you really here, Amily?"

Her grin softened into something more genuine. "Honestly? I missed our little chats. Figured you could use some company that wasn't trying to flatter you or marry you off."

Lucian laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're not kicking me out," she pointed out, setting the bottle back down.

"No," he admitted, his golden eyes meeting hers. "I'm not."