Chapter 364: Chapter 364: Collection of titles
Trevor chuckled, the sound low and thoroughly self-satisfied. "Yes."
"Absolutely not," Lucas said from under the pillow, voice muffled but resolute. "We just survived a wedding, three family dinners, and a palace visit where people whispered about me being his son. I am not walking into another ceremony so half the capital can decide whether to bow, curtsy, or start building conspiracy boards."
Trevor tugged the pillow down just enough to see his face, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Technically, they already are. At least this time we can give them something official to gossip about."
"Official?" Lucas groaned, glaring at him. "You mean adding Marquis of Fitzgeralt to your already absurd list of titles? Grand Duke wasn’t enough?"
Trevor leaned lazily against the headboard, unbothered and infuriatingly smug. "Apparently not. Cressida decided the empire needed a reminder that I can still ruin dinner parties and chair economic councils in the same week."
Lucas exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. "And what am I supposed to do? Trevor, I’m 20 in a few weeks; can you, I donno," he made a large gesture with his hands, "not add more importance to the man that can be king if he wants to?"
Trevor’s grin widened, slow and wicked. "You make it sound like I’m doing this on purpose."
"You are doing this on purpose," Lucas said flatly, gesturing at him as if trying to physically convey the sheer absurdity. "You’re a Grand Duke, now a Marquis, and the capital already thinks I’m the Emperor’s illegitimate child. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to finish my tea without reading conspiracy theories about my cheekbones."
Trevor laughed, a low, amused sound that filled the quiet room. "To be fair, they’re very persuasive cheekbones. I’d suspect imperial blood too."
"Trevor."
He held up both hands in mock surrender, though the smile never left his face. "All right, fine. No more titles before breakfast, I promise. But you have to admit, the look on the Council’s faces tomorrow is going to be priceless."
Lucas stared at him, expression torn between exasperation and disbelief. "You mean when half the nobles kneel and the other half start drafting assassination proposals? Yes, I can’t wait."
Trevor reached over and caught his wrist, tugging him closer until their foreheads brushed. "You worry too much."
"I have you as a husband," Lucas said dryly, though his voice dipped lower. "It’s called survival instinct."
Trevor chuckled, the sound rougher now, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of Lucas’s hand. "Then consider this practice for when you’re twenty, pregnant, and the empire finally realizes just how untouchable you are."
Lucas blinked at him, green eyes narrowing. "That is not comforting."
"It wasn’t meant to be," Trevor said easily, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "It’s a reminder that by the time they’re done whispering, we’ll already be three steps ahead."
Lucas huffed, leaning back against the pillows. "And while they’re whispering, I’ll be expected to smile at cameras, wave at dignitaries, and not throw up on anyone’s shoes."
Trevor’s grin softened, tilting toward genuine fondness. "You don’t have to smile at anyone you don’t want to. That’s the advantage of marrying a man who terrifies half the nobility. They’re too scared to demand things."
"That won’t stop Serathine," Lucas muttered. "Or Cressida."
Trevor gave a low laugh at that, sliding a hand along Lucas’s jaw until he tilted his face back toward him. "True. But at least when they’re done, we’ll be the ones writing the guest list for once."
Lucas eyed him warily. "You’ve planned this, haven’t you?"
"I plan everything," Trevor said, violet eyes glinting with mischief. "Ceremony, retreat, and how we’ll dodge the palace staff and leak our own announcement before anyone else spins it. By the time the capital starts speculating, it’ll be old news."
Lucas let out a long breath, shoulders sagging a little as he sank against him. "You’re exhausting."
Trevor’s smirk deepened. "But effective."
Lucas rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, curling into him instead. "Just... no more titles until after I’m twenty. Please. I’m already drowning in initials after my name."
Trevor laughed softly, kissing his hair. "Fine. No more titles. At least until after your birthday."
Lucas peeked up at him, suspicious. "You’re lying."
"Probably," Trevor murmured, smiling against his temple. "But you’ll forgive me."
Lucas sighed, closing his eyes. "Maybe."
Trevor’s arm tightened around him, voice dropping into something low and steady. "Sleep, love. Tomorrow we’ll let the empire chatter while we decide what we actually want."
Lucas hummed faintly, already sliding toward drowsy. "And who will tell Dax about you having a child before him?"
Trevor went still, his hand frozen mid-stroke against Lucas’s back. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved. "Not me," he said.
Lucas cracked one eye open. "Coward."
"Pragmatist," Trevor corrected smoothly. "The man has a seven-foot-three frame and a temper that could qualify as a natural disaster. You can tell him."
"I’m pregnant," Lucas muttered, half asleep. "He might let me live."
Trevor huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low in his chest. "He might also declare a national holiday out of spite. You know how Dax gets when someone beats him at anything, even reproduction."
Lucas smiled faintly against his shoulder. "He’ll demand a royal godparent ceremony with a full orchestra."
"And matching crowns," Trevor said dryly. "He’ll make sure of it."
For a moment, they both just breathed, the soft hum of the city outside, the faint scent of cedar lingering in the quiet.
Lucas shifted, his voice barely above a whisper now. "He’ll be happy for us, though."
Trevor’s expression softened, the sharpness ebbing away. "He will," he said quietly. "Even if he pretends otherwise."
Lucas gave a sleepy hum of agreement, already drifting again. "Still... you’re telling him."
Trevor chuckled, brushing a kiss to his hair. "Fine. I’ll send a message in the morning. Short, polite, and guaranteed to ruin his breakfast."
Lucas’s lips curved into a tired smile. "Chris will hate us for this; they barely made up."
Trevor laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that belonged to a man already planning the damage. "All the more reason to do it over coffee. Nothing says good morning like emotional devastation before 8 a.m."
Lucas groaned into his shoulder. "You’re ruining my friends."
Trevor laughed again, a low, pleased sound. "They were already ruined, love. I’m just... streamlining the process."
Lucas tilted his head just enough to look at him, green eyes still hazy but carrying that sharp glint that always cut through Trevor’s arrogance. "Chris just got Dax to stop threatening to annex half a kingdom. You’re about to blow that up before breakfast."
Trevor’s grin went wicked. "That’s the goal. Nothing like a little chaos to keep a king humble."
Lucas shifted closer, his hand finding the lapel of Trevor’s shirt, eyes slipping shut. "I’ll tell Serathine you’re doing this on purpose."
"She already knows," Trevor murmured, tucking the blanket more firmly around him. "She’s probably upstairs right now, trying to guess which of us will break first."
Lucas gave a soft, tired laugh. "She’s betting on me."
"She’ll lose," Trevor said with quiet certainty. "You’re stronger than you think."
For a moment, the room fell into a peaceful hush, with the muted city noise outside, the faint scent of cedar, and the steady rhythm of two heartbeats against one another.
Lucas whispered without opening his eyes, "You’re going to send that message, aren’t you?"
Trevor smirked faintly, even though Lucas couldn’t see it. "No, I’m gong to call."