Chapter 226: Chapter 226: A husband’s promise
Serathine set her empty glass on the side table with a soft click that still managed to sound like a final word. "Well then. We’ll speak to Caelan."
Cressida rose with regal ease, smoothing the lilac folds of her gown into place. "We’ll tell him what he needs to hear. What he wants to hear," she added, eyes glinting, "but nothing more."
Lucas frowned faintly. "You’re sure it’ll work?"
Cressida glanced at Serathine. "He owes us both favors. Old ones. Large ones."
"And if he doesn’t remember," Serathine said, plucking her gloves from the arm of her chair, "we’ll remind him. Politely, of course. With citations."
Lucas blinked. "You’re going to cite your debts?"
Cressida smiled, all pearls and sharp edges. "With interest."
Lucas didn’t press. He had no doubt they would get what they wanted, and do it in a way that Caelan wouldn’t recover from for months.
Serathine walked past him, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder with her gloved fingers. "Once that’s done, we’ll be traveling."
Lucas raised a brow. "Where?"
"To Saha," she said lightly. "A brief detour. Nothing diplomatic."
Cressida’s voice dropped, nearly gleeful. "We’ve decided Dax needs to be... educated."
Lucas’s eyes widened, the beginning of a laugh catching in his throat. "You’re going to torment Dax?"
"We’re going to guide Christopher," Serathine corrected, slipping one glove on with slow, deliberate grace. "Ensure he knows how to sharpen his voice. And his teeth."
"He’ll need them," Cressida added, already at the door. "Because if that overgrown tyrant puts a collar near him, I’ll personally teach the boy how to chain the king instead."
Lucas blinked, and this time the laugh escaped, soft and stunned. "You’re both unhinged."
"We’re invested," Serathine said, pausing to look back. "And if Christopher is to survive Dax, he needs more than love. He needs leverage. We’re just giving him the tools."
"Tools," Lucas repeated, dubious.
"Lessons," Cressida clarified. "Possibly fire."
"Possibly poison," Serathine offered cheerfully.
And with that, they were gone, the door closing behind them like the end of a storm that had only just begun to gather.
—
Lucas remained seated for a moment after the door closed, the echo of Cressida’s heels and Serathine’s perfume-laced laughter still clinging to the walls like smoke.
The salon was quiet again. Still too elegant, too heavy with the weight of names etched into tapestries and time. Afternoon light slanted in through the tall windows, casting a pale warmth across the floor and catching on the ash-blonde strands of Lucas’s hair, turning them to soft gold where they brushed his cheekbones.
Trevor entered like he had every right to. His steps were quiet on the polished floor, his coat dark against the pale room, the platinum band on his left hand gleaming as he shut the door behind him with a deliberate click.
Lucas didn’t lift his gaze.
Trevor didn’t speak.
Instead, he walked across the room with that particular grace of his, unhurried, almost casual, and somehow more dangerous for it. He knelt beside Lucas’s chair without a sound, one gloved hand resting lightly against Lucas’s knee, the pressure grounding rather than possessive.
His other hand rose, fingertips brushing the inside of Lucas’s wrist, cool against skin that had gone too warm with tension. He just touched. Like he was reminding himself that Lucas was still here.
Lucas finally looked down at him.
"You’re early," he murmured, voice low and dry.
Trevor tilted his head slightly, eyes sweeping over him with a sharpness that didn’t match the softness of his tone. "You’ve been sitting in the same spot for eight minutes and seventeen seconds."
Lucas blinked.
"I gave you the benefit of the doubt for the first five."
Lucas’s lips curved faintly, the smallest shadow of a smile. "You were timing me?"
"I was watching you." Trevor’s voice didn’t rise. But it deepened. "Two dragons, a bottle of wine, and a bloodline dispute. You think I’d let that go unsupervised?"
Lucas exhaled. His fingers, until now curled against the armrest, shifted. He lifted one hand and slid it into Trevor’s hair, brushing a strand back with a quiet sort of affection that didn’t need to be explained.
"They would help us," he said softly, eyes unfocused for a moment. "Well... no. They would help me. They would keep Caelan away from me."
Trevor didn’t flinch.
But something in his jaw tightened, just a flicker of muscle beneath skin too still. His hands, one still resting lightly on Lucas’s knee, stilled further, becoming an anchor rather than a gesture.
"They should," he said after a moment. "Because he doesn’t get to have you now. Not after what he ignored. Not after what he let happen." His voice was low, almost calm, but it rang with the kind of restraint that felt like breaking anytime.
Lucas’s hand lingered in his hair, fingertips brushing against the back of Trevor’s neck now, grounding him in turn. "It’s not just about what he let happen. It’s about what he wants now. And what people want him to want."
Trevor looked up at him, sharp and quiet. "Another prince."
Lucas’s lips curled, not in humor, not even in bitterness. Just weariness. "Or a symbol. Something to redeem the narrative. Look, Caelan the gracious, reuniting with his bastard son who survived against all odds."
"He doesn’t get a redemption arc," Trevor said, flat. "Not at your expense."
Lucas blinked, lashes low against the afternoon light. His hair caught the sun again, gold spun from ash, and the faintest smile touched his lips. "You know, you say things like that, and for a second I almost forget how ruthless you are."
Trevor stood then, pulling him gently up by the hand still threaded through his own. His thumb brushed over Lucas’s knuckles, anchoring rather than leading. "You don’t need to forget," he murmured, eyes never leaving his husband’s. "You married me for it. For what I am when things go sharp."
Lucas didn’t answer immediately. The light from the high windows caught in his ash-blond hair again, gilding it at the edges, making him look almost ethereal, except for the weight in his eyes, steady and human.
Trevor’s fingers tightened slightly. "And if Caelan forces the matter..." His tone cooled, not with hesitation, but with precision. "Then the Fitzgeralt Duchy will realign with Saha. Publicly. That should be enough to remind him I’m not under his leash."
Lucas blinked once. "That would start a scandal."
Trevor tilted his head, smiling faintly, wolfishly. "That would be the starting balance."
Lucas snorted under his breath. "You always make betrayal sound like good policy."
"Because it is," Trevor replied smoothly. Then, as if sensing the coil of tension in Lucas’s spine still hadn’t released, he tipped his head toward him, voice dipping into something far lighter. "Speaking of good policy... have you thought about choosing the design for your new ring?"
Lucas blinked. "What new ring? The one I asked? I was mostly joking."
"Then choose a new public one," Trevor said casually, as if this wasn’t the start of a new campaign. "The wedding is done, yes, but now we need the kind of jewelry that makes foreign ministers twitch."
Lucas’s brow lifted. "You want me to wear something that starts diplomatic panic?"
"I want you to torment Benjamin until he makes something that does."
Lucas laughed, quiet but real this time. "You just want an excuse to watch him scream."
Trevor feigned offense. "I never need an excuse for that. But you’ve earned it. Diamonds, fireglass, something sapphic and completely gaudy, perhaps? I think Serathine would help."
"I think she’d volunteer," Lucas muttered. "Do I get to veto anything shaped like a falcon?"
Trevor leaned in, brushing the back of his hand along Lucas’s jaw in an entirely inappropriate display of affection for a corridor this close to the war room. "You can veto anything except being mine."
Lucas rolled his eyes, but his hand settled over Trevor’s at his cheek, briefly holding it there. "Fine. But I want the final say. And I want to be there when Benjamin cries."
Trevor’s grin sharpened. "Done."
They turned together then, walking down the corridor, slower than before, but lighter.
Caelan could wait.