Lucian had spent the last three hours spiraling between denial and existential dread. He was going to the capital. The actual imperial capital. Where real rulers, military commanders, and scheming nobles roamed.

  "Alright, new plan," Lucian announced, pacing in his office. "We pretend I’m sick. Maybe even terminally ill. I hear sudden fevers can be very convincing."

  Dorian groaned. "My lord, that will not work. The envoy is already preparing the travel arrangements. If you back out now, they’ll assume you’re hiding something."

  Elaine smirked. "Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? You get promoted to a grander position? End up running the empire?"

  Lucian paled. "I hate how possible that sounds."

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  A knock at the door interrupted his panic attack. One of the town guards entered hesitantly. "My lord, we’ve received another letter. It’s from Duke Reinhardt. He says he’s ‘eager to meet you in the capital.’"

  Lucian grabbed the letter and read the contents. "‘Eager’ is not the word I’d use for this tone. This sounds more like, ‘I can’t wait to crush this upstart with my bare hands.’"

  Dorian swallowed hard. "The Duke has never been fond of unconventional leaders. He’ll be looking for any excuse to discredit you."

  Lucian groaned. "Great. So now, not only do I have to impress the Emperor, but I also have to survive a political assassination disguised as a polite conversation."

  Elaine chuckled. "Sounds like a fun trip."

  Lucian slumped into his chair. "I hate everything about this."

  Dorian adjusted his glasses. "Then I suggest you start practicing your speech. The entire imperial court will be listening."

  Lucian stared at him in horror. "Speech? No one said anything about a speech!"

  Elaine clapped him on the back. "Congratulations, my lord. You’re about to make history."

  Lucian groaned into his hands. "I just wanted to take naps, not run a kingdom!"