Lynx's steps slowed as she approached the prince, her heart beating a little faster despite her best efforts to remain calm. The noise of the ballroom faded into the background, replaced by the rhythm of her own pulse. Lucien Velmora stood at the balcony's edge, his back to her, his face illuminated by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the grand windows. The sight of him—tall, commanding, and yet somehow distant—struck something deep within her.
She had always known about Lucien, the crown prince, the son of the usurper, but in all the years of planning her revenge, she had never allowed herself to focus on him. He was a casualty in her mind, just another cog in the wheel that had crushed her family. Yet, now, as she stood so close to him, a strange feeling stirred in her chest—a mix of hatred, curiosity, and something unnameable.
It was strange, how he seemed both out of place and perfectly at home in this world of masks and deception. Unlike his father, whose presence demanded obedience through fear, Lucien exuded an air of reluctant authority. He was aloof, not by design, but by nature, as though he were watching the world unravel from a distance, observing with eyes that saw too much.
Lynx drew closer, taking a deep breath. This was her moment. She could expose him as a mere pawn of his father's wicked reign, force him to face his own complicity in the bloodshed. But something told her this would not be as easy as she had hoped.
"Your Highness," she said, her voice smooth, almost a whisper in the night air.
Lucien turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes locking with hers instantly. His gaze was intense, and for a heartbeat, Lynx felt the weight of his scrutiny. His eyes were dark—almost black—and sharp, as though he could see straight through her. There was no fear in his gaze, but there was something else, something unsettling. Recognition, perhaps. Or was it amusement?
"Lady Jane," Lucien replied, his voice low and velvety. "I didn't expect to find you here."
Lynx smirked, her eyes never leaving his. "Why? Did you think I would hide away in the shadows, too afraid to face the men who destroyed my family?"
Lucien's expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes. He took a step closer, his posture relaxed but alert. "I know better than most, Lady Jane, that shadows are where truths are often born. But perhaps you've come to dance with those who've stolen everything from you."
Her pulse quickened at his words. It was as if he knew her every thought, as if he could read the very soul she tried to hide from everyone—even herself.
"Perhaps," Lynx replied, her smile curling with a hint of danger. "But I didn't come here for a dance. I came to settle debts."
Lucien's lips quirked into a smile, but it wasn't a pleasant one. "Ah, the debts of the past. I should have known. Revenge. The driving force behind so many of the world's tragedies. Yet, here you are, still standing in the wreckage."
Lynx's eyes narrowed, her fingers curling around the stem of her glass, the cool touch grounding her in the present. "You speak as if you understand," she said, her voice colder now. "You speak as if you know the cost of what your father has done."
Lucien stepped forward, his gaze never wavering. There was something predatory in his movements, something that both intrigued and unsettled Lynx. "I know far more than you think," he said softly, his voice lowering as though sharing a secret. "I know what it is like to inherit a throne built on betrayal. I know what it feels like to wear a crown that doesn't fit. You're not the only one who's been burdened by the sins of the past."
Lynx felt a jolt at his words. Her heart skipped, her breath catching for a moment. Could it be? Did he—did he understand? Was Lucien just another puppet, manipulated by his father, as she had suspected all along? Or was there more to him than that?
"You dare claim to understand my pain?" she asked, her voice rising slightly, the venom in her tone clear. "Your father butchered my family. Your father took everything from me. And you stand here, telling me you understand?"
Lucien's eyes darkened, and for the briefest moment, Lynx thought she saw a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or even guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the cold, distant prince she knew all too well.
"I'm not the man who slaughtered your family, Lady Jane," he said, his voice sharp, though there was a trace of sadness there. "But I am the son of that man. And I cannot change that."
Lynx's gaze softened for a split second, the raw, unfiltered emotion of his words sinking into her consciousness. For just a moment, she saw past the mask he wore, saw the man trapped beneath it—the man who had inherited a broken kingdom and a legacy that he had never asked for.
But that did not matter. Not now. She had a mission. A debt to repay.
"I didn't come here to hear your apologies, Prince Lucien," Lynx said, her voice steady once more. "I came to claim what is mine."
Lucien's lips twitched into a half-smile, the flicker of intrigue still in his eyes. "And what is that, exactly?"
Lynx's hand tightened around her glass, her voice a whisper now. "Everything you've stolen from me."
For a moment, neither spoke. The tension between them was thick, palpable, like a storm waiting to break. Lucien studied her with a mixture of curiosity and something else—perhaps caution, or something deeper. Whatever it was, Lynx could feel it in her bones: she had shaken something within him.
And as the music swelled around them, the room full of masqueraders and deceivers, Lynx realized that this moment was only the beginning. Whether Lucien knew it or not, he was now part of her game.
And Lynx was determined to make him play