Page 39 of Back to Claim His Crown
‘Has he not come home yet?’
‘He got back some time ago,’ Victor said, almost hesitantly. ‘He’s been in the throne room since his return.’
Zara nodded. ‘Is he in a meeting?’
‘I believe he’s alone, ma’am.’
Zara was unwilling to ask the servant anything personal about the King, but there was something meaningful in the way the man was now hovering beside her with an unusually worried expression.
‘Perhaps I’ll see if he’s ready to dine,’ Zara muttered.
Her heart skittered as she walked to the throne room. She knew it was in the very centre of the palace, a relic of the original castle that had been built here and added to over the centuries. It wasn’t massive but the stone walls were thick and the steel door heavy and hard to open. A couple of side lights cast a minimal glow, yet even so the throne on the dais glittered. But it stood empty. The surrounding velvet drapery looked heavy and lush.
She peered in the dimness. Then she saw a movement in the shadows—his back was against the wall in the furthest corner of the room. She stepped in and let the heavy door seal shut behind her before speaking softly. ‘Lucian?’
She heard his sudden sharp inhalation—an alarmingly rough gasp for air.
‘Has something happened?’ She hurried towards him.
She stared as she neared because his mouth moved but no sound emerged. But it was obvious what he’d tried to say—Zara.
‘Lucian?’
He sighed—a huge release of tension.
‘Go.’ This time his voice was audible. A low, ragged growl. And the distress in his eyes was very real.
She swallowed. ‘No.’
He flinched and his breathing became choppier.
She took a steadying breath of her own. Here, in this heart of the palace, there were no windows and only that one door. She instinctively understood that that was why he’d come here. He’d needed safety. She just didn’t know why.
‘I won’t talk to you. I won’t touch you. But I willnotleave you alone. Not when you’re obviously upset.’ She bit her lip. She was desperate to reach for him but she didn’t.
Storm clouds swirled in his eyes—she wasn’t sure he could even see her properly. Sweat slicked his brow. His hands curled into even tighter fists. His chest rapidly rose and fell as he stared at her. She waited where she’d stopped, just a few feet from him. As he stared at her his breathing slowly eased.
‘Zara.’
His voice was still rough and she couldn’t tell if he was using her name as a curse or a prayer.
But she didn’t answer. She’d said she wouldn’t talk and she wouldn’t break his trust. Not ever.
‘I need you to tell me you’re okay,’ he muttered.
‘Of course I’m—’
‘There was an accident,’ he interrupted harshly.
He knew that?
‘It was nothing,’ she said quickly. ‘We got rear-ended on the way back. But it was barely a knock. I’m fine, so are both drivers.’
His breath hissed. ‘Come closer,’ he growled. ‘Let me see.’
She moved before he changed his mind, stopping a mere breath from him.
His hands still shook as he framed her face—tilting it one side to the other so he could see better in what little light there was. And she saw better too—the concern in his eyes, the tension in his face. She realised the truth and it rent her heart.
