Adrien Valmont Shouldn’t Have Cared

  The blade cut across Lucien Moreau’s face, a thin line of red blooming against his skin.

  He didn’t flinch. Didn’t falter.

  Interesting.

  Adrien leaned forward slightly, fingers drumming idly against his knee as he watched. The field was filled with the usual noble sons, whispering behind gloved hands, scoffing at the idea of a scholar holding his own against one of them.

  Adrien had seen enough duels to know how this should end.

  Lucien should have folded by now. Should have hesitated under the weight of their stares, under the unspoken rule that this wasn’t his place.

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  But he didn’t.

  He moved like he belonged.

  Quick. Sharp. Unapologetic.

  Adrien smirked.

  Then, just as Lucien closed in for the final strike, his eyes flickered up—to him.

  For a second—less than that, the barest breath of a moment—Lucien wavered.

  His opponent saw it. Took it. Steel flashed, and Lucien barely avoided the hit.

  A mistake. A slip.

  Because of him.

  Adrien’s fingers stilled.

  "Eyes on me, Moreau."

  The taunt came from the opponent, but Lucien’s gaze didn’t snap back to him immediately. It lingered—just long enough for Adrien to notice.

  Then, like he was punishing himself for the distraction, Lucien ended it.

  A sharp strike. A blade knocked from a hand.

  Victory.

  Silence settled over the hall.

  Lucien wiped his brow, exhaled. He hesitated, as if resisting the urge—then looked up again.

  Their eyes met.

  This time, Adrien smirked.

  Lucien scowled and turned away.But Adrien had seen.

  And he shouldn't have cared.

  But he did