Chapter 365: Chapter 365: Brotherly talk
The morning came quiet and bright, sunlight cutting through the sheer curtains of Serathine’s guest suite and scattering across the pale marble floor. The city outside was already waking, its hum faint through the double-glazed windows, but the room itself still held the hush of sleep.
Lucas was a small, warm shape beneath the covers, buried half under the duvet, half under the illusion that he could sleep through the next inevitable disaster. His hair had fallen messily across his face, the faintest crease visible where Trevor’s arm had been hours ago.
Trevor, meanwhile, looked infuriatingly awake.
Fresh from the shower, black hair towel-dried into something that still refused to behave, he stood barefoot near the window in grey lounge pants and a soft black shirt, the kind of casual luxury Serathine always insisted they "leave behind for emergencies." This, Trevor decided, qualified.
He scrolled through his phone, thumb hovering over one contact name for a long moment. Then, with the resigned air of a man about to set a small country on fire, he pressed call.
The line rang twice before a familiar, rough-edged voice answered, calm, lazy, and far too composed for a king.
"Trevor," Dax drawled. "You do realize it’s not even eight? Someone better be dead."
Trevor smirked faintly. "Give it time."
There was a pause, then the faint scrape of cutlery. Dax was eating; of course he was already awake and ready for the day. The man rarely slept longer than five hours per night. "So. What catastrophe have you engineered now?"
Trevor leaned against the window frame, gaze flicking toward the sleeping figure on the bed, blonde hair shining faintly in the winter sun. "Lucas is pregnant."
Another pause. A longer one this time. Then Dax said simply, "It’s about time."
Trevor blinked. "That’s it? No threats? No swearing? No royal decree forbidding me from reproducing before you?" He wondered if he had to brace himself for something even more dramatic. His Saha sources told him that Christopher was still not cooperating on the heirs issue. The feisty omega accepted his mate and the position but got an understanding with the mad alpha for time before the heirs would be discussed. Trevor suspected that Chris was attempting to protect the two Sahan princes that Dax had kept in case he didn’t have a mate or children. They were minors but very much a lost cause to Dax.
Dax chuckled, low and amused. "Please. I’ve seen the way you look at him, like you’d declare war on the sun if it made him squint. I was wondering how long it would take before your control cracked."
Trevor rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smile that tugged at his mouth. ’Who’s talking?’ He thought before opening his mouth. "You sound disturbingly sentimental. Should I call Chris to check for signs of possession?"
"I’m married," Dax replied smoothly. "It happens occasionally. Don’t get used to it."
Trevor chuckled under his breath. ’You have a fiancée, but I would call it marriage too,’ he moved his eyes from Lucas to a stray beam of light creeping across the carpet. "Lucas was worried you’d declare a national holiday out of spite."
"Oh, I still might," Dax said easily. "Chris will talk me out of it, but not before the invitations are printed."
"Of course," Trevor said dryly. "I’d hate for the empire to function without you for five minutes."
"Careful, Marquis," Dax teased, the title rolling off his tongue like a challenge. "You’re sounding dangerously domestic."
’Of course Cressida told him before the documents were even signed.’ Trevor sighed slowly. "Jealous much, Your Majesty?" He emphasized the rank with mock seriousness.
"Hardly. I just can’t picture you changing diapers without filing a quarterly report about it."
Trevor laughed, the sound quiet and real, watching the bed for any sign that Lucas might stir. "I’ll have Windstone draft one."
That earned a genuine bark of laughter from Dax. "Send me a copy."
Trevor smirked. "Ask Killian for it; I’m sure he and Windstone are still having their wine together on the first Monday of the second month."
"Oh, they are," Dax said, amusement rich in his tone. "Killian came home last time with the look of a man who’d wrestled philosophy and lost. Said they discussed ’life choices’ until midnight and then debated the ethics of butlerhood."
Trevor snorted softly. "That sounds like foreplay for them."
Dax made a low, knowing noise. "Probably was. I still don’t know why they split. He won’t talk about it."
"Neither will Windstone," Trevor replied, leaning back in his chair with the relaxed arrogance of a man who had tried and failed to pry into that mystery. "Every time I bring it up, he looks at me like I’ve just insulted the sanctity of tea."
Dax chuckled under his breath. "Killian does the same. Starts cleaning my cufflinks like I’m the problem."
"You are the problem," Trevor said with mock sympathy.
"So are you," Dax countered smoothly. "Which is probably why they bonded in the first place, mutual suffering."
Trevor grinned. "They lasted longer than most political alliances."
For a brief moment, the line settled into something companionable, a rare thing between two men who’d spent their lives managing nations, expectations, and impossible bloodlines.
Then Dax’s tone shifted, not softer, but steadier. "Seriously, Trevor. Congratulations. He deserves this. And so do you."
Trevor’s throat tightened just slightly it was a bit too much honesty before breakfast. "Thank you."
Dax grunted, probably uncomfortable with the sentiment himself. "Just promise me you’ll tell Caelan before the press does. I don’t want another imperial meltdown on my conscience."
Trevor smirked. "You act like I can control that man."
"You can’t," Dax said flatly. "But you can control the timing."
"Fair point."
There was a brief rustle of movement on the other end, likely Chris reclaiming Dax’s coffee.
"Give my love to Lucas," Dax said finally. "And tell him if he names the child after you, I’ll exile you both."
Trevor grinned. "Tempting offer. I’ll let him know."
The call ended with Dax’s low laugh echoing through the receiver.
Trevor set the phone down on the bedside table, still smiling faintly. Behind him, Lucas shifted under the blankets, muttering something about ’coffee or death’ in his sleep.
Trevor leaned over, brushing a hand through his hair. "Coffee it is," he murmured, straightening.
Windstone would be awake by now. And if Trevor knew his butler, and he did, there was already a tray waiting somewhere in Serathine’s too-perfect kitchen.
As he walked toward the door, he glanced back once more. Lucas was still asleep, the faintest trace of a smile curving his lips, as if his dreams had caught the echo of Trevor’s voice.
Trevor’s grin deepened.
Dax was right. It was time.
And the empire? The empire could whisper all it wanted.
He never cared anyways.