“For the shock,” he says. “And because you will need it.”
She takes it. Drinks. Coughs slightly.
Lucien watches with faint approval.
“I assume,” he says casually, “that the safe house failed.”
“Yes.”
“Someone knew you’d head that way?”
“Yes.”
“Then you did well to come here.” He finally looks at me fully now. “Though I suspect you’re unhappy about it.”
“I don’t enjoy owing you.”
Lucien shrugs. “You always preferred the illusion of independence.”
I don’t rise to it. “We need shelter. Temporarily.”
“Everything is temporary,” Lucien says. “Even countries.”
He sets his glass down and turns serious. “The coup is moving faster than expected. The palace will fall by morning. Borders will close shortly after.”
Iris stiffens. “The princess?—”
Lucien tilts his head. “Is lucky to not be in the country. Her parents might not survive the night.”
She looks at me, something dawning behind her eyes. Her quick mind is connecting the dots. She doesn’t see the full picture yet, but it won’t be long until she does. I shake my head and silently mouth the word “later.” She glares at me but lets it go. For now.
Not noticing our silent exchange, Lucien continues, “My land is protected because of an ancestral trust. I’m not the owner as much as a steward for future generations of San Isidro. The trust is recognized and enforced by all parties that contributed to this conflict. No militias can enter without my approval, no royal rules, no corporations. This land is to remain untouched. But there’s a cost to being my guest.”
“What’s the price?” I ask.
Lucien smiles again, slow and deliberate. “Paperwork.”
I feel a subtle tightening in my gut. The sense that I’ve stepped onto ground that looks solid but isn’t.
He produces a slim folder. “A continuity accord,” he explains lightly. “It specifies your joint standing and mutual responsibility for being guests.”
Tiredness makes my eyes blurry as I skim the document quickly. It’s filled with legal language about trust clauses and something called familiar structures that specifies partnerships between guests staying in the villa. The clause is stated in English and repeated in San Isidran.
Nothing jumps out as being a trap, so I nod. “Fine.”
Iris hesitates, looking between us. “Julian?”
“It’s procedural,” I say. “It keeps you safe.”
Lucien watches her sign with quiet satisfaction.
When she finishes, he takes the folder and closes it. “Welcome,” he says softly, “to my sanctuary.”
The jungle hums outside, relentless and alive. Something about that energy agitates me, but as I’m coming down from the adrenaline high from the escape out of the city, all I care about is keeping Iris safe. As a foreign journalist, she’s a high-valued target for the militia currently taking over power. She’d be an excellent hostage for them to get their message and demands across to the rest of the world. I don’t even want to think about what could happen to her if they catch her.
As long as I’m alive, I’ll protect her. From the militia. And from Lucien.
I meet the gaze of the man who was once my friend and is now…I don’t know what we are anymore. He smiles at me and laughter dances in his eyes.
