Runaway Royal

11

It's surprisingly dark in Lucien's room, with all the curtains drawn and night falling. His hand is warm in mine but he hasn't let go of me yet. I relish in this moment, indulging my fourteen-year-old self that fervently wished for this.

I gently remove my hand as he closes the door and it's completely silent, making me shuffle my feet around nervously. I'm not exactly sure what he wants to talk about, and I don't want to be the first to break the silence.

"He's insufferable," he suddenly says.

I raise an eyebrow at the unexpected comment. "Who?" I ask, even though I think I know the answer.

"Tobias."

"Are you still mad about his comment?" I question, incredulous.

Lucien gives me a look and shakes his head. "No, I could hardly care what a stuffy prince with a starched shirt thinks of me."

I choke on my laughter. "Stuffy? Starched shirt?" It's funny to hear Tobias described this way, although I can't deny that Lucien is wrong.

"This conversation is not going to go anywhere if you are just going to keep questioning me," he replies back.

I don't respond. Instead, I look away and run my fingers on the edge of the wall, feeling for the light switch. My fingers catch on it and I flick it upwards, turning it on. Light floods into the room, temporarily blinding both of us. I blink rapidly as my eyes get adjusted and back away from Lucien, spotting a chair in the corner and sitting down on it.

"So?" Lucien looks at me intently, clearly prompting a response.

I sigh and melt into the chair. "I'm seriously considering your offer. But my mom is so mad at me already..." I trail off, looking up at him.

His face offers me nothing, and he's completely closed off as he leans against the wall. "Has your mom always been like that?"

"No, only within the last year or two." 

"Are you considering it?" 

I frown at the vague question. "Going through with the ball and marrying someone?" I nod, "Yes, I am considering it. But I've also considered running away with you."

Our eyes connect and I'm the first to look away.

"You're... you're serious about doing it, right?" Doubts about how genuine his offer is suddenly entered my mind, and I ask him nervously when he doesn't say anything for a while. I warn, "You better not be joking about this."

"Of course not. I don't wish a forced marriage on anyone." His voice is soft, and he runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not important, anyways. My family wouldn't miss me." Lucien chuckles, but I can tell he's not truly that flippant with how he states it.

The tension in the room feels heavy all of a sudden, and I look away. "What do you mean? Of course you're important, you're the crown prince."

He laughs shortly and shoves his hands in his trouser pockets. "I have three brothers. My parents would love it if one of them took the throne instead of me."

"But do you want to be king?" I eye him carefully. I never thought he minded the weight of the crown—he always seemed carefree and irreverent of everything, the playboy prince.

Lucien's jaw flexes and I quickly shove all traitorous thoughts about how handsome he is out of my head. This is a serious conversation, yet I'm mooning over his jawline like an idiot.

"Most days, no," he replies, then strides across the room to throw open the curtains. My city sprawls out beneath us, and the remnants of the sunset still streak across the sky, basking his room in an orange hue. "I don't want to be bound to the throne."