CHAPTER 254: CHAPTER 254: CALM BREAKFAST

Lucas picked up his fork without prompting, though his fingers curled around the handle a fraction tighter than they should have. The porcelain clinked faintly as he cut into the eggs, the motion instinctive, an old habit of controlling the small things when everything else felt too big.

He ate.

Not quickly, not with any sign of appetite, but steadily, like someone who had decided the food in front of him was a task that would be completed.

Trevor didn’t speak at first, only poured himself coffee, his sleeve brushing Lucas’s arm again as he reached for the sugar. His presence was close enough to anchor, distant enough to allow breathing room.

"You’re quiet," Trevor said eventually, voice low.

"I’m eating," Lucas replied, the faintest thread of dry humor woven into it, though his tone didn’t quite lift. His gaze stayed on his plate. "You said I should."

"That I did." Trevor’s eyes stayed on him a moment longer, studying the way he held himself, the way his shoulders didn’t quite relax, and the way the faint tension in his jaw betrayed that his mind was still running through the morning. "And?"

Lucas’s knife paused for a beat against the toast before he set it down, leaning back slightly in his chair. "And I’m fine," he said, which was only partly true. He was still unsettled, the echo of those words still ringing in his mind like an alarm and the image of the choker bringing back

Trevor’s mouth curved, but it wasn’t the polite kind of smile. "Fine," he repeated, like he was filing the word away for later.

"You don’t believe me." Lucas said, buttering his toast with slow moves, and raised his brow.

Trevor’s gaze didn’t waver, the gold of his cufflinks catching the light as he leaned back slightly in his chair. "I believe you mean it," he said at last, voice even, "but I don’t believe it’s the truth."

Lucas’s mouth curved, just enough to betray the flicker of amusement he felt. "You make it sound like I’m a puzzle you refuse to solve halfway."

"You are," Trevor said without hesitation, taking another sip of coffee.

That earned him a quiet huff of laughter. "Hmm... well, if you say so."

Trevor’s gaze stayed on him a beat longer, as if committing that brief curve of a smile to memory.

Lucas didn’t shy away from it, but he didn’t linger either. He reached for the fruit on his plate, spearing a piece and taking his time with it, the sweetness pulling him a step further from the weight of the morning.

"You’re not going to argue?" Trevor asked finally, one brow lifting in mild surprise.

Lucas gave a slow shrug, the movement lazy in a way that felt almost deliberate. "No point. You’ll just decide you’re right regardless."

Trevor’s mouth curved in a soft smirk. "I usually am."

"That’s what makes you insufferable," Lucas replied, but there was no bite to it. If anything, the faint amusement in his tone was a quiet acknowledgment that, for now, he didn’t mind it.

Trevor reached for his cup again, the gold at his wrist catching the light as he moved. "Only for you. And I’m so insufferable that I asked Serathine and Cressida to let go of their plans to purge your wardrobe again."

Lucas’s fork stilled, green eyes flicking up with a trace of wary humor. "You mean their mission to torment me into duchesshood with love?"

Trevor’s smirk deepened. "Exactly that. Consider it my gift."

"But how?" Lucas asked, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

"I’ve thrown Dax under the tank," Trevor said smoothly, as if it were the most reasonable solution in the world. "He... made some mistakes, and now Christopher is mad. Very much so."

Lucas blinked once, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. "And what are Serathine and Cressida supposed to do? I assume that entire Malek family is trying to remake ties that never existed with Christopher and his siblings. And the two would only add fuel to the fire."

"Believe it or not," Trevor replied, leaning back in his chair with that unhurried calm that was anything but, "they’re there to help Christopher get used to the attention he’s about to drown in. You... are the Grand Duchess; you can run from attention if you want. The Queen doesn’t get that, and Christopher will be Dax’s queen... prepared or not."

Lucas’s fork tapped softly against his plate, a slow, thoughtful rhythm. "So you’ve traded one victim for another," he said, though the faint curl at the corner of his mouth made it hard to tell whether he disapproved or was just amused at the strategy.

Trevor’s smirk returned, just enough to be infuriating. "I prefer to call it resource allocation."

"Of course you do."

Trevor didn’t answer, at least, not with words. Instead, he rose from his chair in a slow, graceful movement, the scrape of it against the floor barely audible. His steps curved around the table until he stood just behind Lucas’s chair.

Lucas felt the shift before he looked up, the subtle change in Trevor’s scent, the way the air seemed to bend closer, warmer. Fingers brushed his shoulder, not with command but with the kind of quiet claim that didn’t ask for permission because it already had it.

"Come," Trevor said, voice lower now, almost lazy, though the edge of possession in it was impossible to miss.

Lucas set down his fork, brows lifting faintly. "Where exactly are we going while your army tears the place apart?"

Trevor’s hand slid from his shoulder to the back of his chair, leaning just close enough for Lucas to feel the faint exhale against his hair. "Anywhere that doesn’t smell like the ghosts I’m throwing out."

There was no real point in arguing. Lucas let himself be guided up from the chair, the warmth of Trevor’s palm firm against the small of his back as they crossed the room. It was an oddly gentle pressure for a man who had just dismantled an entire household before breakfast.

The corridors were quieter now, though here and there the muted sounds of Windstone’s orders still carried, a door shutting, footsteps moving quickly, a name called out and answered. Trevor didn’t slow, steering him past it all, up the marble steps to their bedroom for Lucas to change for the day.