A CROWN OF THORNS AND DEFIANCE

The bruise on Estella's cheek burned like fire—but the satisfaction curling through her veins burned hotter.

Valeria thought she could intimidate her? Please. If the emperor himself couldn't break her, no silk-draped concubine stood a chance.

Still, as Estella strolled through the palace corridors, she couldn't deny the ache thrumming through her body. Her muscles were sore, her legs unsteady—but it wasn't from the slap. No, that was all Lucien's fault.

The memory of the night before lingered in her bones—the way he'd fucked her against the wall, rough and relentless, like he needed to remind her exactly who was in charge.

Too bad for him—she still wasn't impressed.

"Running away already?"

Cassius's smooth, mocking voice cut through the quiet. He leaned against a pillar, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he watched her with far too much amusement.

"Why are you always lurking?" Estella snapped, stopping beside him.

"I like the view." His grin sharpened as his gaze swept over her. "And by the look of things, the emperor's been very thorough."

"Jealous?" she asked sweetly, though her body betrayed her—heat pooling low at the memory of Lucien's hands on her skin.

Cassius laughed. "Not even a little. But you might want to be careful—play with fire long enough, and you'll burn."

Estella arched a brow. "I'm the one holding the match."

"Bold words, little rebel." He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "Just be sure you know who your real enemies are."

Her smile turned cold. "I know exactly who my enemies are, Cassius."

"Good." His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Then let the games begin."

In the Throne Room…

Lucien sat on the throne, his fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against the armrest. His face was calm—too calm—but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

He was still thinking about Estella.

About her sharp mouth. About the way she defied him without fear. About how fucking good she felt when he had her pinned beneath him—breaking her apart piece by piece.

And that bruise on her cheek? That made his blood burn.

No one touched what was his.

The doors swung open, and Valeria glided inside, her expression soft and demure—a mask of perfection. But Lucien knew better.

"You're awfully bold," he said coldly, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Laying hands on the empress."

Valeria's smile barely faltered. "I only wanted to remind her of her place, Your Majesty," she said smoothly. "Before she forgets who truly belongs by your side."

Lucien rose from the throne in one fluid motion. "And what place is that, Valeria?" He descended the steps slowly, each footstep heavier than the last. "Because I don't recall asking for your interference."

Her mask cracked—just slightly—but enough for him to notice.

"I only meant—"

"You meant to challenge my authority," he cut in, his voice turning lethal. "Do it again, and you'll regret it."

Valeria swallowed hard, but her eyes flashed with something cold and hateful. "Of course, Your Majesty," she murmured, lowering into a graceful bow.

Lucien didn't move, didn't speak, until the sound of her footsteps faded into silence.

Only then did he allow himself to exhale.

And the next time anyone laid a hand on Estella—he wouldn't just issue a warning.

He'd draw blood.

Later That Night…

Estella didn't flinch when Lucien pushed open the doors to her chambers. She didn't bother to bow, either—not that she ever did.

"What do you want?" she asked, sprawled across the bed in nothing but her thin silk robe, the hem teasing the curve of her thighs.

Lucien closed the door behind him, his silver eyes sweeping over her body in a way that sent heat flooding between her legs. "Is that how you greet your emperor?"

She smirked. "You're not my emperor."

His patience snapped. In two strides, he crossed the room, grabbed her ankle, and dragged her to the edge of the bed. "No?" he murmured, pushing her legs apart. "Then why do you let me do this?"

Estella's breath hitched as his fingers slipped beneath the silk, teasing her already slick folds. "You're just lucky I'm bored," she whispered, biting back a moan.

Lucien laughed softly—a dark, dangerous sound. "Always so mouthy," he murmured, sliding one finger inside her, slow and deliberate. "But your body doesn't lie, does it?"

She gasped, arching into his touch, but refused to give him what he wanted. "Is that all you've got?"

His eyes flashed. "Careful, little rebel," he warned, curling his fingers in a way that made her legs tremble. "You're already shaking for me."

"You wish," she spat, though her voice broke on a whimper.

Lucien pulled his hand away and stood, undoing the fastenings of his trousers with a deliberate slowness that made her mouth go dry.

"You think you're in control?" he asked softly, dragging the tip of his cock along her entrance. "Let me show you just how wrong you are."

Before she could fire back, he thrust into her—hard and deep, tearing a broken moan from her lips.

"Still think I can't handle you?" he growled, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. "Because from where I'm standing, you're already falling apart."

Estella glared up at him, refusing to break. "You're awfully cocky for a man who still hasn't made me beg."

His laughter was pure sin. "Give me time, sweetheart."

And with that, he fucked her harder—deeper—until her pride shattered beneath the force of her pleasure.

Meanwhile…

Valeria stood in the shadows, watching through a sliver of the open door. Her fists clenched as the sound of Estella's moans echoed down the corridor.

She would not be replaced.

Not by that foul-mouthed little brat.

And if the emperor thought this game was over, he was dead wrong.