By the time the court session ended, Heidi Brooks had eaten three palace pastries, offended two ministers, and earned the undivided, dangerous attention of the emperor.
She considered this a very productive morning.
Lucian Hale watched her from the high throne as officials filed out like survivors of a natural disaster. His expression was carved from ice, but his eyes followed one figure only—the girl stretching like a cat who had claimed a sunlit windowsill.
Heidi yawned again, long and unapologetic, then leaned toward her sister.
"Did you see his face when I called him early?" she whispered.
Her sister, Helena Brooks—capital-renowned beauty, social assassin, and professional two-faced charmer—smiled sweetly while gripping Heidi's sleeve hard enough to bruise. "You are going to get us all killed."
"Oh, relax," Heidi said. "He laughed. That means I'm safe. Probably."
Her brothers did not share her optimism.
Her eldest brother, General Rowan Brooks, still stood stiff as a drawn blade, eyes flicking between Heidi and the emperor with the look of a man calculating battlefield casualties. Her second brother, Elias, the capital's most feared scholar-strategist, adjusted his glasses and murmured, "Statistically speaking, her survival rate should be zero."
Their father—the Duke—sighed like a man who had aged ten years in an hour.
Lucian descended the dais.
Each step silenced lingering whispers.
He stopped in front of the Brooks family.
"Lady Heidi Brooks," he said.
She looked up, crumbs on her fingers. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
His gaze dropped to her hands. To her mouth. To the faint smile tugging at her lips, careless and bright.
"You will be housed in the Inner Palace," Lucian said.
The words hit like thunder.
Helena gasped. Rowan stiffened. Elias went pale.
The Duke fell to his knees. "Your Majesty—this is too great an honor—my daughter is unprepared—"
"She will prepare," Lucian said.
Heidi frowned. "Wait. The Inner Palace? That's where the scary people live."
Lucian leaned closer. "You are not afraid of scary people."
She hesitated. "I am afraid of stairs. Are there many stairs?"
Something twisted in Lucian's chest.
"Yes," he said slowly. "But I will have them minimized."
The court eunuchs stared in horror.
Heidi brightened. "Oh! Then I accept."
Her family stared at her like she had signed her own execution order.
Lucian turned sharply. "You will come now."
"Now?" she echoed. "I was planning a nap."
"You will nap later."
She sighed. "Tyrants are so inconsiderate."
Lucian's lips twitched.
The Inner Palace was quieter than Heidi expected.
Less gold. More shadows.
As she was escorted through high corridors veined with dark stone, she became acutely aware of something… else. The air felt heavier. Older. As if the walls were watching.
"Is it just me," she murmured to the head maid walking beside her, "or does this place feel like it bites?"
The maid froze.
Then smiled too quickly. "You must be tired, my lady."
Heidi wasn't convinced.
The moment she stepped into her assigned residence—a secluded pavilion surrounded by black-leafed trees—her chest warmed strangely. Like recognition.
She paused.
"That's odd," she muttered.
"What is, my lady?" the maid asked.
Heidi shook her head. "Nothing. Probably hunger."
She flopped onto the nearest couch—thank the heavens, a couch—and kicked off her shoes.
"I live here now," she declared. "Wake me in a year."
The maids exchanged terrified looks.
Lucian stood alone in the Hall of Ancestors that night.
Moonlight bled through the high windows, illuminating ancient murals of emperors crowned in shadow and flame. At the center of the hall stood a black stone altar etched with symbols forbidden to be spoken.
Lucian pressed his palm to the stone.
It pulsed.
Awakened.
"She is here," he said softly.
The shadows stirred.
A low whisper echoed—ancient, amused, hungry.
The Lazy One.
Lucian's jaw tightened. "Do not mock her."
The whisper laughed. You have never protected a human before.
"She is not weak."
She does not belong to this world.
Lucian's eyes darkened. "Then this world will change."
The altar flared once—then went still.
Heidi dreamed that night.
She stood in a field of black flowers beneath a red sky. A crown burned in her hands—heavy, alive. Someone was calling her name, voice layered with sorrow and longing.
She woke with a gasp.
Her heart pounded.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't sleepy.
"That's new," she whispered.
Outside her window, unseen, Lucian stood watching.
His shadow stretched unnaturally long across the stone.
And for the first time since he had taken the throne, the ruthless emperor prayed—
Not for power.
But for her.