'Why in the Empress's name did he say no?'
The thought refused to leave her. It looped behind her gaze like a ribbon caught in wind—silent, but constant. Selienne Lysandra, First Princess of the Empire, did not obsess. She calculated. She predicted. She anticipated.
And Lucavion had violated all three.
She had not come to gamble.
She had come to win.
Every word, every angle of her presence had been measured—lowered just enough. Not to appear equal, no. But to appear willing to offer equality. A carefully painted illusion, tailored for his ego, precise enough to feel like truth. She had smiled, even. The kind of smile that cost bloodline and pride to produce.
And he—
'He looked me in the eye… and declined.'
Not with disrespect.
Not with rebellion.
Worse.
With certainty.
'He doesn't care about the throne.'
That was the knife twisting now. He wasn't fighting her. He wasn't trying to outplay her.
He just… wasn't interested.
It wasn't his "no" that struck her.
