g. The normal morning buzz-the servants' chatter, the faint hum of laughter or music-was gone. She tugged the silk robe tighter around her shoulders. It was soft, but it weighed on her, a constant nud

y he stood, like he owned the place. He didn't fit here. But he didn't seem to give a damn. Celestine took a step closer, her chains jingling soft with the move. The guy's head tilted up a bit, like he felt her there before she even opened her mouth. The air got thick, heavy between them. He felt... familiar. But that didn't make sense. She'd never laid eyes on him. Had she? Before she could say a word, Lucien's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp as a knife. "You shouldn't be here." She turned and saw him coming down the stairs, his long coat flaring out behind him. His face gave nothing away, but the air crackled with tension. The stranger didn't budge. "I came for what's mine," he said, his voice smooth, steady. A chill ran through her. There was something off about how he talked-something that poked at a corner of her mind, a memory she couldn't grab hold of. Lucien's mouth twisted into a thin, cold smile. "Nothing here's yours." A beat of silence. Then the stranger tipped his head up, just enough for her to catch his eyes. Silver. Deep an