Lucien and Rowan traveled far from the estate, their journey stretching over long hours as they made their way toward the capital. Lucien sat in silence for most of the journey, his gaze distant as he watched the passing landscapes. The estate was far from the heart of the kingdom, isolated in a way that made it easy to forget the world beyond its walls. But here, in the capital, things were different. Here, power shifted with whispers.
And in a place like this, even a disbarred prince could become a ghost among men. Though his name was well-known, spoken in hushed conversations, woven into rumors of disgrace and scandal, his face was not. The status of a prince rewarded him with an anonymity that allowed him to move freely, to step into the city without heads turning in recognition.
But Lucien had always been the kind of man who drew attention, whether he wanted it or not.
He was dressed in a dark midnight robe; the fabric swayed with his movements as he walked through the busy streets. The capital was alive with noise, merchants calling out their prices, horses clattering against the cobblestone, and people haggling and laughing over cups of spiced wine.
Rowan was falling back with a pace or two and grumbled under his breath, "Encountering people in public was a terrible idea... Master is drawing an awful lot of attention."
He wasn't mistaken.
Despite the slight haggardness in his features from long nights of drinking, Lucien still carried an air of authority, as he was born with it , his sharp emerald-blue eyes, his strong jawline, the quiet intensity that lingered in his every movement. Women stole glances as he passed, some whispering behind their hands, while others openly admired his striking presence.
But Lucien didn't acknowledge them. he didn't mind having their eyes on him, but it brought him no amusement either.
Ascending the worn wooden steps of a well-known restaurant, Rowan pushed open the heavy doors for his master to enter.
The room had the scent of warm spices, and roasted meat filled the air, a familiar comfort in a place that had remained unchanged despite the years.
"Lois, it's been a while."A voice, smooth and feminine, called out from the side. Lucien turned to meet the doe green eyes of Mrs. Madeline Winchester.
She was a woman quite elegant in her way, with golden-blonde hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck. Though in her forties, she carried herself with the confidence and elegance of a woman who knew exactly how to keep time at bay.
She owned this place, and in many ways, she owned the stories that passed through it. Restaurants have been the easiest and safest place for people with secrets to meet and talk; this place is where no one knows no one. But walls of these buildings always has ears.
Lucien nodded in greeting, Rowan doing the same beside him. "Madeline."
Here in public, Lucien was always Lois. Who is a man of no importance, no title, and no past.
Madeline studied him for a moment before calling over one of her servants. "See that my guests are well taken care of; please enjoy your time here, Sir Lois"
The servant bowed and gestured for Lucien and Rowan to follow.
The servant led Lucien, a.k.a. Lois, as he was known here, to a private room tucked away in the quieter part of the restaurant. . The room itself was modest, with low wooden tables, divan-style seating, and soft cushions arranged neatly around the space.
Lucien stepped inside, his midnight blue robe flowing behind him as he moved with effortless grace. The servant who led them here bowed to Lucien and informed him, "Sir, I will send a waitress to attend the room. Lucien nodded, thus the servant left room. After being seated, Lucien reached for the bottle of rice wine on the table, pouring himself a drink.
Yet something felt off.
He took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through his throat before glancing toward the door. His sharp eyes caught the shadow lingering just outside.Rowan hadn't entered the room with him.
Lucien's grip on the cup tightened slightly before he spoke, his voice smooth but firm as he called for his confidant while looking at the door.
"Rowan."
Soon the door cracked open slightly, and Rowan peered inside, only to be met with a piercing gaze.
Lucien arched an eyebrow. "Why are you standing outside?"
Rowan straightened, clearing his throat. "I'm doing my job, Master."
Lucien smiled silently, stirring the liquid in his cup. "Did you already forget what I asked of you?"
Rowan blinked, then looked down at himself, his regular clothing replaced with plain, boring brown tunics and a gray sash. He had dressed as per Lucien's command, dressing up like a commoner.
"But Master, I'm wearing normal clothes..ummm commoner clothes. Isn't this enough?" He asked, a faint crease forming between his brows.
Lucien exhaled slowly, placing his cup down with a deliberate thud. His voice remained calm, but it seemed to be on edge of patience now.
"The goal was to blend in completely, not just in clothing but in actions too. You can't stand outside the door like a guard and expect to go unnoticed."
Rowan frowned, his fingers twitching slightly in protest. "Master, I'm just keeping watch..."
The subtle shift in Lucien's expression was all the warning he needed.
Rowan sighed, rolling his shoulders before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Why is he always like this?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way toward the seating area.
Lucien smirked slightly, leaning back with his drink in hand. "Get ready. He should be arriving soon."
Rowan sat down adjacent to Lucien, near the door. His movements were controlled, but there was tension in his posture, his fingers resting lightly against the edge of the table ready.
The table was simple yet well-maintained, and the divan seating plush with four carefully arranged cushions. Rowan's seat gave him the perfect angle to observe both his master and the entrance. Even though Lucien had told him to act like a civilian, his instincts wouldn't allow it.
His eyes flicked to Lucien, who seemed at ease, pouring himself another drink as if this meeting were nothing more than casual business.
But Rowan knew better.
Lucien was calm, yes, but that didn't mean he was careless.
Rowan had been at his master's side for years, ever since he was a boy lost in the streets with nowhere to go. Lucien had given him a place, a purpose, a reason to stand and fight.
And Rowan never forgot that.
Ever since that incident, since the night that had taken Lucien's ex-wife and shattered his name, nothing has been the same.
There had been attempts on his life.
And today, Rowan had no reason to believe it would be any different.
His fingers curled slightly. His jaw tightened just enough for Lucien to notice..
Lucien exhaled, taking another sip from his cup. Without looking at him, he muttered, "Relax, Rowan."
The room was silent except for the occasional clink of Lucien's cup against the wooden table and the approaching footsteps. At first, they were light, almost careful. But as they neared, they grew heavier.
Both men instinctively turned their attention toward the door.
Rowan's body tensed immediately, his posture shifting into a defensive stance. His fingers twitched slightly, hovering just above the hilt of the hidden blade at his waist.
Lucien, on the other hand, remained as he was, being seated with one arm lazily resting on the table, the other bringing his cup to his lips. His eyes flickered toward the door, calm yet sharp, watching.
The steps stopped right outside.
And then, the door creaked open.
A person entered, the shadows within the room making their form loom large behind them.
"May I?" in a sliky tone, the person asked the men.
Rowan's throat constricted. He knew the drill. He was accustomed to surprise visitors, offhand appointments, but this was not the same. His lips parted, but nothing issued forth.Rowan, still caught in the moment, finally found his voice, though it came out quieter than usual.
"You are…?"
His question hung in the air, unanswered by the person whose held a wooden fan infront of its face
The door clicked shut behind their guest...