Lucian barely slept.
Not because the room was uncomfortable.
Not because of the guards stationed outside his chambers.
Not even because somebody had once again entered his room without permission and left a threat neatly on his desk like they were participating in some deeply irritating social ritual.
No.
He simply couldn't shut his mind off anymore.
The folded note still sat on the table where he had left it.
Stop looking into the coffin.
Lucian stared at it for a long moment before dragging a hand down his face tiredly.
At some point during the last few weeks, his life had stopped feeling like a palace drama and started feeling like a hostage situation with decorative curtains.
Outside his chambers, footsteps moved constantly now.
Guards.
Servants.
Whispered conversations that died the second he opened a door.
It was suffocating.
And the worst part?
None of it actually solved anything.
Somebody still got into his room.
Somebody still stole his documents.
