Nine Hot Therians and Their Only One Queen novel Chapter 478

**Chapter 478: The Fashionista**

“And I’d be even less deserving of her affection,” Lucien declared, his voice laden with conviction.

After uttering those words, he sprang to his feet, his demeanor shifting as he addressed Calum. “Calum, I appreciate your concern. You know as well as I do that on the battlefield, despite the peril that looms, I have never once faltered. And when it comes to my emotions, I refuse to retreat either.”

Calum stood momentarily stunned, grappling with the realization that perhaps his worries had been unfounded.

Lucien, however, chose not to meet Calum’s gaze again. He inhaled deeply, the air filling his lungs with a sense of resolve, and then allowed his eyes to drift down to the tattered remnants of his clothing.

In the heat of their earlier confrontation, he had been too caught up in the moment to notice the state of his attire.

Now, as he surveyed the damage, he couldn’t help but grimace. His clothes were riddled with gaping holes, a testament to the ferocity of their powers.

Even a wandering rogue, with their ragtag appearance, would have looked more put together than he did at that moment.

In days gone by, he might have reveled in this disheveled state, knowing it would elicit sympathy from Emma. But now, he felt a sense of responsibility weighing on him. Emma had already done more than enough for him; he didn’t want her to bear any further worry or pain on his behalf.

With that thought firmly lodged in his mind, Lucien swiftly retrieved a meticulously prepared outfit from his storage band, changing into it with purpose.

The robe he donned was a rich, obsidian black, the fabric cascading around him like the depths of night, interwoven with delicate threads of gold that shimmered subtly—noble, elegant, and utterly untouchable.

He shed the ragged remnants of his previous attire, slipping into the stunning black-and-gold robe.

The instant he did, it was as if the very essence of his being transformed.

The once-slumped figure, burdened by guilt, straightened with newfound poise, the perfectly tailored garment lending him an air of confidence.

He stood tall, shoulders squared and waist trim, radiating a blend of restraint and grace that was impossible to ignore.

The deep black of the robe accentuated the pallor of his features, while the glimmers of gold danced in the shadows of his eyes, bestowing upon him an undeniable dignity that dared anyone to challenge him.

Calum, taken aback by the transformation, could only stammer, “You came to fight, yet you brought a change of clothes?”

Lucien adjusted the cuffs of his robe, lifting his chin slightly as he regarded Calum, who was still draped in his own miserable rags.

“Of course I did. If I returned looking this battered, Emma would be beside herself with worry.”

He paused for a moment, contemplating his next words, then added with a hint of determination, “I refuse to shamelessly pick a fight and return looking pitiful just to elicit sympathy from Emma.”

Calum raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you implying that I’m shameless then?”

He glanced at Lucien’s luxurious robe, then at his own ragged attire, and felt a surge of frustration. His fists clenched, veins throbbing at his temples as he struggled to comprehend Lucien’s mindset.

“What kind of twisted logic is this? You come here to fight, and you think to change clothes afterward?”

It was beyond him. What sane person would finish a brawl and then ponder a wardrobe change?

Facing Calum’s incredulity, Lucien merely regarded him with a steady gaze.

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