Twenty minutes later you had tracked down Lucien in his bedroom. You’d marked on your little map where it was in a separate wing on the second level, far from yours— and after searching in his usual haunts, it was the last place to look. you knocked on the white-painted double doors.

"Come in, human." He could probably detect you by your breathing patterns alone. Or maybe that eye of his could see through the door.

you eased open the door. The room was similar to yours in shape, but was bedecked in hues of orange and red and gold, with faint traces of green and brown. Like being in an autumn wood. But while your room was all softness and grace, his was marked with ruggedness. In lieu of a pretty breakfast table by the window, a worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons. It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire. Tamlin's court-trained emissary, but a warrior in his own right.

"I haven't seen you around," you said, shutting the door and leaning against it.

"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border — official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he’d been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spar with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."