Inside the grand hall of Lord Cedric's manor, Prince Lucian reclined in an oversized velvet chair, the image of royal arrogance.
He lounged as if he owned the estate, legs stretched out lazily, fingers playing with the golden goblet in his right hand. His left fingers drummed idly on the armrest as he glanced at the lavish surroundings with the casual entitlement of someone who thought the world belonged to him.
Lord Cedric's servants scurried around the room, placing delicate trays of food before the prince, their faces carefully blank, knowing better than to show any emotion in the presence of their master and his dangerous guest.
Lucian felt like a king here. Cedric's manor, secluded from the prying eyes of the palace, had become his sanctuary, a place where he could indulge in his darkest desires without fear of consequence. And Lucian took full advantage of it.
