Pregnant by the Prince of Lust(BL)

Seraphel

I had been here for the past week, doing nothing but waking, eating, and sleeping, never once leaving my room. Luceriel called it acclimating to his kingdom before the training could begin.

I had believed, foolishly, that the moment we crossed into Verolona he would rush me straight into training as he’d promised. He hadn’t. The only thing he had bothered to do was check in on how the baby and I were faring, nothing more.

He had at least been generous enough to let me speak with Azriel that first night. But since then, there has been silence.

Luceriel had cut off every thread of communication between us.

Now, after a week shut indoors, I couldn’t bear it any longer. The training he had sworn to me still hadn’t come, and I decided I would confront him myself.

"Why don’t we wait for the prince to summon you, instead of going to him?" Analisse suggested, wringing her hands together. "This is Verolona, and their customs are nothing like Katula’s. It would be far safer to send word and let him call for you, rather than seek him out uninvited."

I shook my head, staring through the window down at Luceriel’s palace, the Palace of Peluti, which meant power in the Verolonian tongue. There was nothing to see beyond it except the building that faced mine directly: his private chambers, positioned as though he meant to keep watch over me at all hours.

I hadn’t glimpsed the rest of Verolona once since arriving and I was desperate to see how beautiful it looked in comparison to Katula.

"I can’t spend one more day trapped in this room," I said, letting out a long breath. "I’ll go to him myself and ask when this training is finally going to start, before I lose what’s left of my mind." I walked out before she could argue further and nearly collided with a guard already approaching my door.

"Your Highness!" the guard said, bowing at once.

When he lifted his head, his gaze cut toward Analisse with open disapproval, as though she had committed some offense simply by standing there.

"I asked her to accompany me," I said. "I intend to see the prince."

The guard’s frown deepened. "Your Highness, forgive me, but the customs of Verolona differ greatly from those of Katula. You cannot present yourself before the prince simply because you wish it. It is forbidden, unless his highness summons you himself."

I rubbed the back of my neck and gave Analisse an apologetic look. She had warned me earlier, and the last thing I wanted was to drag her into trouble.

She was the only familiar face I had in the whole of Verolona.

"I will gladly wait here for his highness’s return," Analisse said, bowing her head to me before retreating back toward the room, leaving no room for me to argue.

The guard said nothing more, and I let out a breath of relief.

"So," I said, turning back to him, "you’re here because Luceriel wants to see me?"

"His highness summons you."

The exact same thing I had already said, only turned around. I wondered why he’d bothered repeating it at all.

"Is my training finally starting today?" I asked, grinning from ear to ear. The guard offered no answer. He simply turned and began walking, and I followed without pressing further.

The guards of this kingdom all carried themselves the same way, shoulders drawn back with a pride so complete it seemed borrowed directly from the man they served.

He led me out of the building I had been confined to for a week and down a long hallway that clearly belonged to the inner palace.

Its walls were lined with painting after painting of Luceriel. His image claimed every corner, his green eyes rendered in each one with such vivid, unrelenting pride that they seemed to watch me as I passed, a fitting obsession for a man who was, after all, the sin that bore the name.

He truly lived up to his title. Beneath every portrait was an inscription praising him as one of the greatest beings to have ever existed.

At last we arrived before a pair of golden doors. Before we had even reached them, the guards posted there swung them open, and I was led inside.

I stopped and stared, because I had never in my life seen anything so magnificent.

Towering pillars rose at the center of the throne room, climbing so high their tops vanished into shadow above me. The colors throughout were muted and dull, almost austere, but the craftsmanship was stunning.

Murals sprawled across every wall in painstaking detail, each figure and flourish rendered as though the artist had been given a lifetime to perfect it.

The hall stretched on far longer than even Azriel’s own throne room had, as though modesty itself had no place within these walls, a room built to match a sin that could never be satisfied with less.

"Beautiful," I murmured.

"The prince consort of Lust has arrived!" the announcer’s voice rang out from a corner of the hall. "Prince Consort Seraphel!"

Prince Consort Seraphel. The title felt strange to my ears at first. Now it fits as naturally as my own name.

I tore my gaze from the walls and found Luceriel seated upon a jade throne, eyes closed, heavy brows settled into their usual imperious arch, legs crossed, one hand resting idly beneath his chin.

Aside from the guards lining the room, he was entirely alone, and my disappointment must have shown plainly, because I had been certain the summons meant training had finally come.

"Why am I here?" I demanded, before I had even crossed halfway to the throne.

Silence. Two full minutes passed without a single word from him.

"Luceriel," I tried again, but he cut me off with nothing more than a look, his green eyes settling on me with an intensity that stopped the words in my throat.