The carriage ride to the palace took nearly three hours.
Lucien sat across from Elara, the rhythmic clatter of wheels over cobblestone filling the silence between them.
Sunlight filtered through the dark curtains in thin, shifting bars.
Outside, the Nightshade lands gradually gave way to royal territory—neater fields, brighter banners, and the distant silhouette of the capital’s spires.
Elara watched him without blinking for a long stretch.
Lucien pretended to study the passing scenery.
“You’ve been quiet,” she said eventually.
Her voice was light, almost playful, but the words carried weight.
Lucien shrugged one shoulder.
“Lots to think about.”
“Hm.” She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve.
“Father expects much from this evening.
As do I.”
The statement lingered.
Not quite a threat.
Not quite encouragement.
Just enough to remind him of the invisible lines they had always walked.
Lucien met her gaze.
“I won’t cause trouble.”
Elara’s lips curved, but her eyes stayed cool.
“How novel.”
The rest of the ride passed in near silence.
When the carriage finally slowed before the palace gates, footmen in gold livery opened the doors.
The air smelled of blooming jasmine and polished marble.
Lucien stepped down carefully, the formal coat feeling too heavy on his small frame.
Inside, the reception hall glittered.
Crystal chandeliers, soft string music, and clusters of nobles in their finest attire.
The Duke and Duchess had already melted into conversation with other high-ranking guests, leaving the younger Nightshades to navigate on their own.
Lucien took one but only pretended to sip.
Elara leaned slightly closer.
“The prince favors directness.
Try not to bore him.”
Before Lucien could respond, a tall figure approached.
Crown Prince Adrian—golden-haired, sharp-featured, and carrying the kind of effortless authority that came from knowing the world bent to his will.
He looked maybe eighteen, though his eyes suggested he had seen far more.
“Lady Elara,” the prince greeted, inclining his head.
“And young Lucien.
I’m pleased you could both attend.”
Elara curtsied with flawless grace.
“The honor is ours, Your Highness.”
Lucien bowed.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
The prince studied him for a beat longer than comfortable.
“I’ve heard interesting things about you, Lucien.
Some say you’ve been… changing lately.”
Shit.
Lucien kept his face neutral.
“Children grow up, Your Highness.
Or so I’m told.”
A faint smile touched the prince’s mouth.
“Indeed.”
Elara’s hand rested lightly on Lucien’s shoulder, a picture of sisterly affection to any onlookers.
Underneath, her fingers pressed a silent warning.
The conversation drifted to safe topics—the upcoming academy term, recent harvests, the beauty of the palace gardens.
Words layered over other words.
Lucien felt the undercurrents: the prince testing loyalties, Elara probing for advantage, everyone watching everyone. This story is hosted at g.com.
At one point, when the prince was briefly pulled away by another guest, Elara murmured near Lucien’s ear, “Careful.
He collects secrets like others collect coins.”
Lucien nodded once.
“I’ll remember.”
They moved through the hall together, exchanging brief pleasantries with various nobles.
Some offered tight smiles.
Others watched the Nightshade siblings with open wariness.
Lucien kept his responses short and polite, letting Elara carry most of the weight.
Later, near a tall window overlooking illuminated fountains, the Duchess appeared at their side as if she had materialized from the shadows themselves.
“You two make a striking pair tonight,” she said softly.
Her gaze flicked between them.
“It would please your father to see such harmony.”
Elara inclined her head.
“We aim only to reflect the family’s strength.”
The Duchess’s smile was small and knowing.
“Good.”
She drifted away again, leaving the siblings in another pocket of weighted quiet.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
The weight of unfamiliar eyes, the careful dance of every word—it pressed on him more than he expected.
For a moment, the music and chatter faded into background noise.
Elara glanced at him.
“Tired already?”
“A little,” he admitted.
She didn’t mock him this time.
Instead, she simply said, “Then stand straighter.
They’re still watching.”
Lucien adjusted his posture.
Across the hall, the prince was speaking with another group but occasionally looked their way.