CHAPTER 268: CHAPTER 268: SPY TRAINING

Mia licked salt from her fingers, lowering her voice like she was about to share classified intelligence. "So... you know how Windstone never talks about himself? Like, ever? Well..."

Lucas narrowed his eyes, mid-chew. "If this is about him alphabetizing the pantry again, I already know. He tried to put rice under ’grains’ instead of ’R.’ The man’s a menace."

She grinned. "Better. Accidentally stumbled on his personnel file when I was helping one of the junior staff copy schedules." She leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. "He was married."

The fry froze halfway to Lucas’s mouth. "Lies."

"Truth," Mia said, smug. "Official papers exist. And get this: his ex-husband was a beta. They actually divorced on friendly terms. Apparently, they still have wine together once in a while."

Lucas blinked, slowly lowering the fry. "You’re telling me Windstone, scourge of side-eye, terror of misplaced cutlery... sits around drinking wine with his ex like some civilized human being?"

Mia bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Seems like it. One of the drivers swore he saw them on the balcony of a café last month, looking like two professors debating the death of art."

Lucas fell back against the couch, wheezing. "I can’t decide if that makes him scarier or softer. Like... what does he even talk about over wine? Filing systems? The ethical collapse of starches?"

"Probably about how everyone else is incompetent," Mia said, grinning. "With footnotes."

Lucas wiped his eyes, shaking his head. "Oh, I am absolutely saving this. One day, when he gives me that eyebrow for eating fries in the wrong room, I’ll just say, ’at least I don’t drink wine with my ex on Thursdays.’ He’ll implode."

"Careful," Mia teased. "That eyebrow might be the last thing you ever see."

Lucas pressed the fry box to his chest like it was a holy relic. "A beta, Mia. Do you know what kind of beta you have to be to marry Windstone and not run screaming after two weeks?"

Mia snorted. "Braver than half the generals, apparently."

"Or blind," Lucas shot back, grinning. "Imagine waking up every day to that glare before coffee. That’s not marriage, that’s a survival trial."

Mia leaned closer, whispering like the walls had ears. "And yet, somehow, they made it years. Years, Lucas. Which means Windstone was once... tolerable."

Lucas gasped dramatically. "Don’t you dare spread that slander. Next you’ll tell me he laughed once."

Mia’s grin widened. "What if he did?"

Lucas shuddered, flopping back against the cushions. "If Windstone ever laughs in front of me, I’m changing countries. That’s an omen. That’s... end-of-days material."

Mia was still grinning when her phone buzzed against the couch cushion. She glanced at the screen, and in an instant the color drained from her face.

Lucas narrowed his eyes, leaning over like a cat scenting weakness. "Oh-ho. That’s not your usual gossip-feed face. Who is it? Don’t tell me Windstone texted you a bibliography for wine pairings."

Mia quickly flipped the phone face-down, but not before Lucas caught the name that had flashed across the top: Dax.

Lucas’s jaw dropped. "No. No way. Don’t you dare sit there in my living room with contraband fries and pretend you’re casually texting King Dax of Saha."

Mia groaned, shoving her face into her hands. "It’s not like that."

Lucas clutched his chest, voice full of mock betrayal. "Oh, it’s exactly like that. Treason-by-text. I’m sitting here, suffering under Trevor’s scary glowers, and you’re over there with your own private royal pen pal?"

She peeked at him through her fingers. "He asked about Christopher. That’s it. He only cares about him right now and wants to know everything about him."

"Why doesn’t he ask Christopher then?"

"Ha, you don’t know my brother. He would battle the fate like a madman and is not happy that Dax is pushing him to day where did he get his suppressants from."

Lucas arched a brow, chewing slowly like he had all the time in the world to savor her discomfort. "So let me get this straight. The King of Saha is too terrified of rejection to ask Christopher himself, so he’s texting you for updates like a nervous schoolboy?"

Mia groaned louder, dragging her hands down her face. "He’s not terrified. He’s... strategic. And Christopher’s not exactly easy. He’d rather chew glass than admit he needs anyone."

Lucas smirked, leaning back against the cushions. "Oh, I know. Your brother could weaponize stubbornness. But suppressants? That’s not gossip, Mia. That’s... dangerous."

Her expression sobered, fingers knotting in the fry bag until it crinkled. "That’s why Dax is pushing. He wants to know who gave them to Chris, where they came from, and how much time he took them. But if he presses Chris directly, Chris will burn the whole palace down out of spite."

Lucas tilted his head, watching her carefully. "So His Majesty outsourced the problem to you. Clever. He gets answers, and if Chris gets mad, you’re the buffer instead of him."

Mia sighed, tossing her head back against the couch. "Exactly. And I’m stuck between the most unmovable force on earth and the most immovable object. Do you have any idea what that’s like?"

Lucas grinned wickedly, popping another fry into his mouth. "Oh, I have some idea. I live with Trevor."

Mia snorted, but the laugh caught at the edges, nerves still pressing against her ribs. She glanced at her phone again, the screen still glowing faintly with Dax’s unread follow-up.

Lucas leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Show me the text. Come on. Let me see what royal pillow talk looks like."

Mia swatted him with the fry bag. "It’s not pillow talk!"

Lucas cackled, collapsing sideways into the cushions. "Mia, you are officially living my favorite soap opera. And I fully expect front-row seats when Christopher finds out you’ve been secretly feeding intel to his very possessive alpha."

Mia pressed the phone to her chest like it could shield her from Lucas’s grin. "You don’t get it. Three weeks ago I didn’t even know Chris was a dominant omega. Now I have to ask him questions like..." she lowered her voice into a stiff, mock-serious tone. "So, brother dearest, what type of suppressant do you take? When did you start and how the fuck did you find them?’ without him smelling a lie on me."

Lucas choked on his fry, coughing so hard he had to grab the throw pillow and whack his own chest. "You..." he wheezed, "you have to ask him that?!"

Mia dragged her hands down her face, muffling a groan. "Yes. That. Do you know how insane it is? I can barely get Chris to tell me what he had for breakfast without him side-eyeing me like I’m plotting treason. And now I have to slide in a question about his illegal medication history?"

Lucas’s laugh came out sharp and wheezing, his grin spreading like fire. "Oh gods, Mia. He’s going to rip you apart. One whiff and he’ll know you’re covering for someone. You’ll be dead before you get to the word ’suppressant.’"

"Exactly!" she hissed, grabbing the fry box back from him like it could protect her. "I’m doomed. Dax thinks I’m some covert agent, Chris thinks I’m just his annoying sister, and meanwhile I’m juggling questions that would make a seasoned interrogator sweat."

Lucas leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes bright with mischief. "No, no, this is brilliant. Practice on me. Go on, ask me like you’d ask Chris. I’ll be your test subject."

Mia narrowed her eyes. "You’ll just laugh."

"Of course I will," Lucas said cheerfully. "But better me than your brother. At least I won’t skin you alive for it."

Mia groaned again, but the tiniest twitch of a smile betrayed her. "Fine. But if you laugh too hard, I’m telling Trevor you were plotting to escape with fries."

Lucas grinned, already settling back like he was the world’s most smug Christopher impersonator. "Go on then, little spy. Hit me with your best shot."