Alistair blinked. "You’re joking."
"No," Lucas said, entirely serene. "That was the ’do not press unless threatened or emotionally drained’ button. Guess which one I qualify for."
"Lucas," Alistair began, hands raised, "I’m not here to start anything."
"Then you should’ve brought a latte and an appointnt," Lucas replied. "Because this isn’t the ti, and you sure as hell aren’t the priority."
From down the hall ca rapid footsteps—firm, familiar, and not at all happy.
Seconds later, the door beeped once and slid open with force.
Trevor entered first, followed by Windstone with all the calm of a man who had prepared for this.
Trevor’s eyes went straight to Lucas. "What happened?"
Lucas gestured to the room. "He ca in. I pressed the button."
Windstone looked at Alistair. Then at the locked windows. Then at the faintly flickering lights.
"Appropriate response," he said.
Alistair exhaled slowly. "Trevor, I wasn’t—"
"Why are you here?" Trevor cut in. His voice clipped with professionalism honed by years of not being surprised anymore.
"I wanted to talk," Alistair said. "To you. And since the engagent happened while half the continent was still asleep—"
"You didn’t think to call first?" Trevor’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
"I did," Alistair snapped, his calm veneer finally cracking. "Multiple tis. I ssaged you. I emailed. I even reached out to Windstone—Windstone, who told to ditate and review imperial succession law."
"I stand by that advice," Windstone said flatly.
Alistair turned back to Trevor, jaw tight. "Don’t make the villain. You sent on a ’vacation’—that turned out to be a diplomatic sinkhole with ten countries, three disputed treaties, and noble families asking if you were available for pairing. What the hell were you thinking?"
Trevor placed a hand over his chest, tone solemn. "Serathine asked to help my now-wife. Would you prefer I never find a pair? I’m hurt."
He wiped a tear that absolutely did not exist.
Lucas, still near the door, blinked slowly. "Is this real? Is this how you’ve always survived family politics?"
"No," Alistair said flatly. "This is how he inflicts it."
Trevor offered a saintly shrug. "You kept your composure. You didn’t even punch the minister from Cadrien, and I know you wanted to."
"I did punch soone," Alistair growled. "Just off-record."
Windstone, without looking up from his tablet: "It’s in the annex notes. I filed it under ’diplomatic realignnt.’"
Lucas leaned against the fra, arms crossed, watching like it was theater and he’d been given the front row. "Wait. Is this your version of bonding?"
Trevor didn’t answer. Alistair did.
"This is his version of deflection," he muttered. "He never sent a ssage about his marriage. I would have brought cake."
Lucas blinked, already bracing himself. "It was last night. At 10:25 in the evening."
He said it with the weary clarity of soone who had said that multiple tis today. It didn’t help.
"You got married," Alistair repeated slowly, like he was trying to convince himself it was real. "Last night."
Trevor gave a nonchalant shrug. "Correct."
"And no one told ?"
"No one told ," Windstone said, finally looking up from his tablet. "Until they were already in the air and the flight crew sent a notification that the Grand Duke and his wife are on the way. I didn’t even know the gender."
Lucas blinked. "Of the spouse? Mine?"
"Correct."
Trevor looked mildly defensive. "There wasn’t ti."
"There was ti to pack," Windstone replied. "Just not to text the man who files your agreent after the wedding."
Alistair turned back to Lucas, still blinking like soone had missed an entire Chapter. "You really said yes?"
"I asked him to marry ," Lucas said simply.
Trevor didn’t flinch. Windstone didn’t look up. But both of them registered it.
Alistair blinked. "You... proposed?"
Lucas nodded once, unapologetic. "Well, it was him—the dominant alpha I knew—and the possibility of the Imperial House sending to Saha with a sparkling bow after they found out I’m a dominant oga. Serathine’s words, not mine."
Trevor winced. Windstone just sighed.
Alistair froze. "Wait. What? Dominant oga? Dax knows?"
Lucas threw his hands in the air. "Why is everyone asking about him? Is he behind a curtain sowhere? Do I owe him a fruit basket? What?"
"He was a real option," Alistair hissed. "Before Trevor eloped with you in secret, there were rumors about the Palace trying to pair soone like you with—"
"He was not," Lucas cut in flatly. "I was supposed to be engaged to Trevor anyway."
Alistair blinked. "Wait, what?"
Lucas rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to get ahead of whatever diplomatic migraine the court was preparing. That’s why I proposed first. My survival instinct works fine."
Alistair stared at him for a full second, then threw his hands in the air. "Oh, gods. This is ridiculous. What are you going to tell next—that he’s the Emperor’s secret son?"
He ant it as a joke. A sharp one. An impossible one.
But then he looked at Trevor.
Then at Lucas.
And sothing changed.
The silence that followed wasn’t codic. It was charged.
Because neither of them laughed.
Lucas scratched the back of his neck.
Trevor looked at the floor like it had suddenly beco deeply important.
Alistair’s smile died. "Wait. Wait."
Lucas winced. "Okay. Technically"—
"Oh my god," Alistair said, stepping back like the revelation might be contagious. "Seriously? That wasn’t even a real guess! That was sarcasm!"
Windstone, without looking up, murmured, "And yet. Here we are."
"You’re kidding. Please tell you’re kidding," Alistair said, now pacing three feet of ancient hallway tile like it personally betrayed him. "Is there anyone else who knows?"
"Three people," Trevor said calmly.
"Four, now," Lucas muttered. "Congratulations. You’ve been promoted to chaos confidant."
Alistair stopped dead in his tracks. "Do you know what this ans?"
"I married him," Lucas said. "I think I’ve figured out what it ans."
Windstone closed his tablet with precision. "We’re late for the library."
"I’m late for therapy," Alistair muttered.
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