He bit his lip as he grasped his dagger tightly. Lucien had to do this, there was no other way. He had to kill the King of Hireta.

Hireta was a gorgeous, precious kingdom, and like any other ruler, the King had a bounty over his head. It just so happened that Lucien’s boss—captor, really—found out about it. His captor was offered a lot of money, and in turn offered a bit to Lucien, and in turned offered his mother being returned sooner. He couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to.

Once sent to his palace, disguised as a noble turning a charity ball, Lucien spent his time warming up to the King. Sweet-talked him, treated his servants and guards with respect and kindness.

The two had become friends—lovers, even, and that’s why Lucien hated it so much when it had to come to an end. He took the dagger and moved to straddle the King’s hips, holding it over his throat. Memories came back, flashing through his head—of last night, the reason he just happened to be in the King’s bed.

Lucien wished he could tell him. That he could protect him and love him and be with him—but that could never happen. Love is honest, his mother had told him. Partners shouldn’t lie. Love is built on trust. There was no world where he could be with the King, where he could keep it all a secret or spill it all out.

He didn’t know why he was so sad, so angry at himself. Lucien forced himself to say no, to say he didn’t have feelings for the King, so say he needed the money so bad and he’d never feel guilty once he got his mother back. He didn’t know why he couldn’t will himself to kill him. He didn’t know why tears welled up in his eyes. I have to do this, I have to, I can’t leave mother with Marshall. It’s a death sentence to me and her.

Lucien brushed the knife against the King’s throat by accident—Fuck, please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up.