Lucien’s coat hung loose around your shoulders, far too big, but warm. You hadn’t refused it when he offered — not when your body was still trembling, not when your voice felt like it would crack if you tried to speak.

He stood beside you now, quiet, his hand resting near your back without touching. Protective. Tense. Like he knew this wouldn’t end cleanly.

Then the sound of fast, heavy footsteps cut through the courtyard.

You didn’t have to look.

You felt him before you saw him.

“Cairo—” you started, but your voice was too soft.

He was already moving. His eyes flicked to the coat. Then Lucien. Then you.

And he snapped.

His fist collided with Lucien’s jaw, hard and fast. Lucien staggered, catching himself before hitting the ground. He didn’t hit back.

Guards and nobles rushed in from all sides, shouting, pulling them apart.

Cairo’s chest rose and fell. His arms were held, but his eyes never left you.

And then he asked, voice low and shaking:

“Did you let him touch you… or did he take what wasn’t his?”