The throne room was quiet that morning.
Golden light poured in through the tall stained glass windows, creating colorful patterns on the shiny marble floor.
King Lucien sat by himself on a smaller, simpler seat—not the grand throne used for official meetings, but one meant for private conversations. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, lost in thought.
Damian entered without fanfare.
No guards. No page to announce him. Just a prince walking toward a king, a son walking to his father.
Lucien looked up slowly. "You're earlier than usual."
"I wanted to speak with you before the council convenes."
"I assumed you might," Lucien said, adjusting himself on his seat. "News travels quickly in this castle. Even faster when tongues wag for a crown."
Damian sighed. "So you've heard."
"About you and your mate parading the palace like two lost lovebirds?"
Damian stood tall, arms behind his back. "I plan to announce my engagement to Evelina before the week is out."
