The first thing Lucas did when the front doors closed behind Trevor was kick off the shoes he’d worn purely to look respectable. They landed sowhere in the vicinity of the rug, harmless enough, and he padded back toward his rooms.
There was no question of going out. The manor in the capital was large enough to keep him entertained for days without ever setting foot beyond its gates, and today, he had no intention of dealing with anyone he didn’t choose to.
He changed out of the immaculate shirt Serathine commissioned from Evrin only to send Trevor the invoice and pulled on sothing that actually felt like his, an old white t-shirt, soft from too many washes, and a pair of black shorts that made him look more like a student on sumr break than the Grand Duchess.
Technically, he could call Windstone. A ssage would be even easier. But ordering nuggets and fries over the phone would rob him of the real prize: watching the precise mont the man’s expression tightened, as though Lucas had personally offended the entire culinary tradition of the Empire.
So instead, he set off to find him.
The manor was quiet in its particular way, with sound softened by high ceilings and carpeted halls, footsteps swallowed before they could echo. Pale sumr light stread through the tall windows, spilling in slow, warm stripes across marble floors.
He took his ti, wandering through rooms that slled faintly of polished wood and fresh flowers, peeking into doorways as though Windstone might be hiding behind a vase just to avoid him. By the ti he turned into one of the narrower service corridors, he was starting to think the man was deliberately evasive.
Which was when Lucas rounded a corner and collided, full shoulder, no warning, into soone in a dark uniform.
The impact knocked a startled sound out of the young woman, sending her back a step before she went down entirely, the tray she’d been balancing clattering to the floor. A sleek black tablet skidded across the carpet and stopped just short of the wall, the Fitzgeralt crest flashing briefly before the screen went dark with the unmistakable crack of sothing expensive no longer being whole.
Lucas’s reflexes kicked in before his manners did. He crouched imdiately, scooping up the device with careful fingers, wincing as the spiderweb of damage caught the light. "That doesn’t look cheap," he murmured, glancing up.
The girl, slender, in her early twenties, with dark hair pulled into a neat knot, was already gathering the scattered papers from the tray, cheeks flushing. She shook her head quickly. "It’s fine, Your Grace. My fault entirely..."
Lucas extended a hand to help her up before she could finish the apology. "It’s not fine if it’s broken, and I did just crash into you like I own the hallway." His mouth curved faintly. "Which, unfortunately for you, I technically do."
That earned him the briefest flicker of a smile before she pulled it back, smoothing her expression into the practiced neutrality of staff who had learned exactly where the line was and how not to cross it.
Once she was upright, she brushed at the front of her pencil skirt, eyes lowering in careful deference. "Mia Malek, Your Grace. Communications team. This was ant for one of Mr. Collins’s aides."
"Well, it died in service," Lucas said dryly, glancing at the cracked screen. Mia’s mouth twitched, the sound of a half-suppressed laugh slipping past before she could stop it.
"Didn’t Dax ask for you two weeks ago?" he added, as though the thought had just occurred to him.
Her head lifted a fraction, surprise flickering in her eyes. "His Majesty?" she asked, careful with the title, like saying his na outright might invite trouble. "Yes. But it was only for a dinner with my brother and him."
"That sounds... dangerous," Lucas said, handing the tablet back with a faintly theatrical grimace. "Dinner with King Dax is never just dinner."
Mia’s mouth curved, the expression quick but genuine before she caught herself. "It was fine. My brother did most of the talking."
"Older brother?" Lucas guessed, noting the way she straightened a little when she spoke of him.
"Yes, Christopher." She hesitated, as though weighing whether the na would an anything to him.
Lucas’s brows lifted, faint amusent sharpening his green eyes. "Ah. That Malek. I’m surprised Dax let his leverage go."
"Well, he didn’t really want to," Mia admitted, a flicker of wry humor crossing her face, "even if his taste in jewelry is perfect, and that alone could have convinced to stay, but His Excellency had a condition. If I could choose what to do, he’d let go."
"That," Lucas said, his interest clearly piqued, "sounds interesting. And I’m alone and bored. Let’s do this; co with to find Windstone. I’ll tell him I broke the tablet and that I want my nuggets and fries, and you... you just get to stand there and hear everything."
Her mouth curved before she could help it. "You did break it."
"Details," Lucas replied without missing a beat, already turning down the corridor with the easy confidence of soone who fully intended to drag her along.
Mia hesitated only long enough to glance at the cracked tablet in her hands, as though considering whether abandoning it here would be more trouble than carrying it. Then she fell into step beside him, her strides quick to match his.
The service corridor opened into one of the main halls, sunlight spilling across polished floors in long, pale ribbons. Lucas didn’t hurry. He wandered with the air of soone who already owned every step of this place, hands loose in his pockets, glancing over at her with the occasional flicker of curiosity.
"So, you’ve t Dax," he said conversationally, as though they were discussing the weather. "Survived, too. Impressive."
"I wasn’t on the nu," Mia replied dryly, then blinked like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to speak to him like that.
Lucas’s mouth curved, slow and approving. "Good. Keep that. I like people who don’t crumble in under five minutes."
They passed a tall vase of sumr lilies, the faint sweetness of them drifting into the air. Sowhere deeper in the manor, the muted clink of silverware and low murmur of staff voices suggested Windstone was near, probably setting up for Trevor’s return like the man could bend ti to his convenience.
"You know," Lucas continued, "Windstone’s very polite, but he’s also perfected the art of telling you you’re wrong without saying the words. Watch for it, it’s all in the eyebrows."
"I’ll take notes," Mia said, smiling despite herself.
"Don’t bother. You’ll see." Lucas’s tone was almost gleeful now. "And when you do, try not to laugh. He hates that."
They rounded the last corner toward the smaller dining room, Lucas already rehearsing the most dramatic delivery of ’I broke it and I want nuggets’ in his head. Mia glanced sideways at him, the tablet still in her hands, and decided, against her better judgnt, that she might actually enjoy the transfer to the capital.
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