Chapter Twenty-One: A Lesson in Obedience

The door to Lucien's private chambers slammed shut behind them, sealing out the whispers and venom of the court.

Estella walked ahead without hesitation, her hips swaying as she crossed the room. She could feel Lucien's eyes on her—hot and unyielding—but she didn't stop until she reached the far window.

"You're quiet," he said, his voice low and rough.

Estella turned, her arms crossed beneath her chest. "I had a lot of time to think while you were off playing warlord."

Lucien's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Missed me, little rebel?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she shot back, though the heat twisting in her belly betrayed her. "But while you were gone, your favorite decided to entertain herself at my expense."

His smile vanished. "What did she do?"

Estella took her time answering. She wanted him to feel the weight of her words. "She hit me," she said softly, tilting her head. "In front of her little minions. Thought she could get away with it while you weren't here."

The room went cold.

Lucien didn't speak right away. Instead, he crossed the room in slow, measured steps—each one heavier than the last. When he reached her, his hand lifted—not to touch, but to trace the faint bruise still ghosting her cheek.

"She put her hands on you?" His voice was dangerously soft.

Estella smiled—sharp and vicious. "She did," she murmured, leaning into his touch. "And I want you to return the favor."

Lucien's silver eyes burned. "You want me to strike her?"

"I want you to remind her who she answers to," Estella whispered, her smile turning cruel. "And who she shouldn't touch."

For a moment, he said nothing—just studied her with that cold, unreadable expression that made her pulse quicken. But when he spoke again, his voice was pure authority.

"Done."

Later That Day…

The grand hall buzzed with conversation when Lucien entered, his presence cutting through the air like a blade. Every noble, every courtier fell silent as he strode toward the throne, his black cloak trailing behind him like shadow.

Estella followed a step behind—her gown a deep crimson that clung to every curve. She wore her power like a second skin, and she made sure everyone saw the faint bruise on her cheek.

Let them wonder. Let them fear.

Lucien took his seat on the throne, but his attention wasn't on the simpering nobles. It was on one person.

"Valeria," he said, his tone calm but cold. "Come forward."

The favorite concubine rose gracefully from her seat, her face a mask of calm—but Estella didn't miss the way her fingers trembled as she approached.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Valeria said, her voice soft, sweet—a perfect performance.

Lucien's gaze sharpened. "While I was away, you forgot your place."

A flicker of panic flashed in her eyes. "I would never—"

"Silence."

The word cracked through the hall like a whip.

Valeria's mouth snapped shut.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, his fingers curling lazily around the armrest. "You struck Estella in my absence," he continued, his voice smooth as silk. "A mistake I am inclined to correct."

Valeria's composure slipped, and her lips parted in disbelief. "Your Majesty, I—"

"You will not speak," he interrupted, his tone icy. "You will listen."

The hall fell deathly quiet.

Lucien's attention shifted to Estella, who stood at his side like a queen in everything but name. "Would you like to deliver her punishment yourself, little rebel?"

Estella smiled—slow and dangerous. "Tempting," she purred. "But no. I want you to do it."

Lucien chuckled low in his throat, but his eyes gleamed with something lethal. "As you wish."

Without another word, he rose from the throne and descended the steps, the weight of his power pressing down on everyone in the room.

When he reached Valeria, he didn't pause—didn't hesitate.

His hand struck her cheek with a sharp, brutal crack.

The sound echoed through the hall.

Valeria stumbled back, her face snapping to the side, but she caught herself—barely. Her eyes burned with tears, but she didn't dare let them fall.

Estella felt a wicked thrill twist in her gut. She wanted Valeria to hurt.

Lucien tilted his head, his voice quiet but cutting. "Consider that your first and final warning," he said. "Touch what's mine again, and I won't be so forgiving."

Valeria trembled beneath the weight of his words. "Yes, Your Majesty," she whispered.

Lucien turned back to Estella, extending his hand. "Come here."

She didn't hesitate.

The moment her fingers brushed his, he pulled her against his side, his touch possessive—undeniable.

"You're dismissed," he told Valeria without another glance.

And just like that, it was done.

As Valeria retreated, her pride in tatters, Estella felt nothing but satisfaction. She had wanted a show of power—and she got it.

And from the way Lucien held her, as if daring anyone else to challenge her place, it was clear—

She wasn't going anywhere.

Later That Night…

Estella barely had time to catch her breath before Lucien backed her against the door of his chambers, his mouth hot and demanding against hers.

"You enjoyed that," he murmured against her lips, his hand sliding down to grip her waist.

She laughed softly, tilting her head. "Of course I did."

His fingers tightened on her hip. "You're dangerous," he said, though his tone was full of dark amusement.

Estella reached up, dragging her nails down his chest. "You like it," she whispered.

"I do," he admitted, lifting her against the wall in one smooth motion. "But you're still getting punished for making me play your games."

Her breath hitched as his mouth traced the line of her neck, teeth scraping against sensitive skin. "Is that a threat?"

Lucien laughed softly—a dangerous sound. "No," he murmured, his voice rough with promise. "It's a fucking guarantee."

And when he claimed her that night, there was no mercy in his touch.

Not that she wanted any.