CHAPTER 205: HUMILIATION 2

The weight of the shame pressing on Khan’s chest was unlike anything he had ever endured in his life. He was the heir of Lechia, the only son of the empress, raised with the knowledge that his word was law and his power unmatched among his peers. Yet before the eyes of his people, nobles and commoners alike, he had unleashed everything he had...his flames, his mastery of the elements, his cultivated skills...and not once had he managed to so much as graze Lucas. The realization twisted like a knife in his pride. If Lucas had chosen to go on the offensive, to strike with the same ferocity with which he had defended, Khan dared not imagine how humiliating his defeat would have been. His face burned hot, his heart pounded, and he could feel the stares of his countrymen boring into him, some filled with pity, others with mockery thinly veiled behind whispers.

And then Lucas, ever calm, ever composed, broke the silence with words that cut deeper than any blade. His voice carried across the gathered crowd with a weight that no one could ignore.

"Since you are so generous, Prince Khan," Lucas said, his tone casual, almost mocking in its lightness, "we shall gladly accept your hospitality. But see to it that we are placed in the best inn... among the commoner’s settlement."

The words were a slap across Khan’s already wounded pride. Not only had Lucas humiliated him in combat, but now he had deliberately chosen to refuse the opulence and prestige of noble quarters, preferring instead the humble lodgings of the commoners. To the crowd, it was as though Lucas had declared that the nobility’s luxuries were beneath him, that their prince’s offer held no sway. The insult rang clear to every ear present.

Khan’s jaw clenched. His pride screamed at him to strike again, to wipe that calm expression off Lucas’s face, but he knew...he knew...he would fail. Another attempt would only deepen the wound and drag his name further into disgrace. His knuckles whitened as he forced his fists to unclench, his lips pressed tightly as he fought the urge to lash out.

At last, he descended from the air, his boots touching the ground with a heaviness that betrayed the storm inside him. He did not dare meet the eyes of the gathered crowd, nor the sneering glances of the three women who stood behind Lucas, their expressions sharp with barely contained amusement. Selene’s smirk was the cruelest of all, Nyx’s icy eyes glittered with derision, and even Lira, quiet as she usually was, let a knowing smile tug at her lips. Their low, hushed chuckles felt like daggers to his heart.

Grinding his teeth, Khan turned to his servants. His voice was clipped, hard, but quivering faintly with the effort of restraint. "Arrange it," he commanded. "See that he and his companions are given what they ask for."

The servants bowed deeply, none daring to look directly at him, and scurried away to fulfill the order. Khan’s pride demanded he linger, that he salvage what remained of his dignity, but the shame burning in his chest made it unbearable to remain in Lucas’s presence a moment longer. Without another word, he stepped back into his golden carriage, his face dark with humiliation, and gave the signal to depart.

As the carriage rolled away, the chuckles of the three girls followed after it like an echo that refused to fade. Selene muttered under her breath with a cruel smile, "Prince of Lechia, yet couldn’t even scratch him."

Nyx tilted her head, her voice low but cutting. "All that fire and bluster, and nothing to show for it."

Lira, the softest of them, only shook her head, her smile gentle but no less stinging for it. "He should never have stood against Master."

Their laughter, sharp and mocking, trailed behind Khan as he disappeared down the avenue, his humiliation sealed not only in the memory of his people but in the cruel amusement of the very women he had tried to impress. And Lucas? He stood there as though nothing at all had transpired, his hands clasped calmly behind his back, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

Lucas watched the golden carriage disappear into the distance, the echoes of Khan’s humiliation still lingering in the air. For a moment he allowed silence to stretch, the quiet murmurs of the onlookers still resonating in his ears as he sneered.

He had no desire to deepen the shame of the Lechian prince any further. His goal here was not to create enmity but to establish ground for something greater. The one who held the true power in Lechia was not Khan, but his mother, the absolute monarch. To antagonize her son beyond repair would only complicate the purpose of his visit. A lesson had been taught, his point made clear. That was enough.

He turned back to the three girls who had been watching him intently through the entire ordeal. They stood together, shoulders straight, eyes unwavering, each one proud and defiant in her own way. Selene, with her sharp tongue and fiery temper, had mocked Khan without hesitation. Nyx, cool and detached, had let her silence speak volumes, her disdain radiating as sharply as her words ever could. Lira, gentle and quiet though she was, had not once faltered, her loyalty and quiet resolve shining all the brighter against the tension of the moment.

Lucas’s gaze softened as he approached them. "You three did well," he said, his voice low and warm, a stark contrast to the commanding tone he had used only moments before. "You did not yield, and you did not let anyone trample upon your pride. I am proud of you."

Lira’s eyes widened slightly, and she gave a small smile, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. "That is all we could do." She murmured.

Lucas shook his head gently and reached for her first, pulling her into a firm embrace. "That is not all," he replied softly. "You stood your ground when others would have bent. That is worth more than you realize." He pressed a light kiss against her forehead, and her cheeks flushed, her smile shy but radiant.

Next was Nyx. She met his approach with her usual calm composure, her arms folded across her chest. But when he stepped closer and drew her into his embrace, she did not resist. Instead, her lips curved into the faintest of smirks. "You should not praise me too much," she said quietly, her voice a whisper meant only for him.

"I should," Lucas answered simply, holding her a moment longer before kissing her lightly on the lips. Her composure cracked just slightly, and her eyes softened, betraying a flicker of warmth she rarely allowed to surface.

Finally, he turned to Selene. She was already glaring at him playfully, her arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently. "I suppose you think I behaved like a proper lady," she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mocking a prince until he nearly turned purple?"

Lucas chuckled and pulled her into his arms despite her mock resistance. "You behaved exactly as you should," he said, his voice carrying both approval and amusement. "And yes, I am proud of you." He leaned down and kissed her, slower this time, letting the heat of her impulsiveness meet the steadiness of his resolve.

When he pulled back, he reached up and rubbed her head gently, his fingers threading through her hair. Selene blinked at him in surprise, her cheeks turning faintly red as she tried...and failed...to maintain her usual sharp expression.

"I am starting to like that tongue of yours," Lucas said with a grin, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "It cuts sharper than most blades."

Selene scoffed, though the faint smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Don’t get used to it. I won’t always use it in your favor."

Lucas only laughed softly, drawing the three of them closer as the onlookers dispersed, whispering about what they had just witnessed. In that moment, he let go of the weight of politics, of alliances and rivalries, and simply held them close, his heart swelling with something he hadn’t realized he had been missing.