It was already past midnight when they reached the palace gates.
Nyx leaned heavily against Lucien. Her steps were slow and dragging, while her breath was filled with the sting of alcohol. Her arm clung to his for balance, her head occasionally dipping forward as though the weight of the world, and the wine, was too much to carry.
When her eyes caught sight of the palace, she hiccupped and frowned.
"Why'd you bring me here?" she muttered, her words slightly slurred but laced with irritation.
Lucien, still guiding her with steady patience, glanced at her. "Don't you stay here?"
Nyx pouted, her lips drawn downward like a sulking child. "I don't want to live there," she murmured, "not with that man around."
Lucien slowed his steps, his voice quieter this time. "Who?"
Nyx didn't answer right away. She pushed herself off him with surprising resolve and swayed a little as she stood on her own feet. Her gaze, though hazy, locked onto him.
