Chapter 5
Lucas
Lucas rose early and escaped his… their…
chambers before Sia woke. He stood at the tall window in the dining room that overlooked the gardens with his hands clasped behind his back and his back stiff from a restless, sleepless night.
Dawn had barely broken and the faint light spilled across the hedges and sparkled on the dew and mist from the fountains.
He had not touched his wife. Not last night. Not this morning. Not even by accident.
Thoughts continued to run through his head. Had he made a mistake marrying his once sister-in-law? What if the Trust Council had gotten it wrong and things just spiraled out of control?
He let out a deep sigh. He could ask himself a million questions, but he already knew the answer. He had done the right thing, the only thing that he could to save the kingdom and his girls. Had it not been Sia, it would have been some random woman thought worthy of bearing him a child.
At least with Sia, he had time to grow into the idea. He knew she was as uncomfortable with the situation as he was. He also knew that she would respect her sister’s memory as much as he respected his late wife’s and his girls, their mother.
As the staff began to move around the castle, Lucas quickly learned that they had been more than prepared to have their queen. There was an air of excitement and expectation that even he could sense.
When he heard the sound of Sia’s footsteps, guilt plunged him deep in the heart. They were soft, careful steps, like she moved as if she were afraid of being heard. He didn’t turn to greet her as he should have. He simply did not know what to say.
Behind him, Sia crossed the room to the seat the servants had set up for her. Already, the palace was making room for her in ways he hadn’t. Ways that he couldn’t. He wondered if it was for their queen or for what she represented to them. No throne meant no employment.
He peeked over his shoulder, but her back was to him. She wore a pale blue blouse now with pressed slacks, both modest and formal, with her dark hair pinned up the way past queens had done. Just like Dian. She looked every bit the role of a queen, both composed and serene
But she was also distant. And unlike his late wife, Sia looked very much alone. The weight of it pressed against his heart. He had known this would be cruel, just like he had told himself cruelty was unavoidable.
Still, watching it play out in front of him was torture. She passed by with no greetings, and the silence stretched between them.
A servant cleared his throat near the doorway. “Your Majesties, breakfast is served.”
Lucas nodded. “Thank you.”
Silver clinked softly against porcelain as dishes were set down.
There was fresh bread still steaming, sliced fruit arranged in perfect symmetry, and a pot of tea placed in the middle of the table.
The staff retreated with small bows, though not before more than one curious glance flickered toward Sia.
She folded her hands in her lap as Lucas finally turned.
She looked exactly as she had from behind. The pale blue suited her. It was the sort of color Dian used to favor in the spring. The comparison made him stiffen.
“You’re up early,” he said finally, the words feeling insufficient the moment they left his mouth.
Sia offered a polite smile. “I’ve always preferred the mornings.”
He nodded, as though this were new information. It wasn’t. He had known her for years. He had simply never searched for footing in her presence.
“You slept?” he asked.
Her fingers tightened on her mug. “Enough.”
He knew that tone. It was the same one she had used at Dian’s funeral when well-wishers had asked if she was managing.
He gestured toward the tea. “It’s hibiscus."
“I remember.” She reached for the pot, then hesitated. “Would you like me to pour it for you?”
He nodded. “I don’t take sugar.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
The tea poured in a thin stream. The scent rose between them, tart and fruity.
Lucas sat opposite her at the long table. The space between their chairs felt absurdly wide for two people legally bound in marriage.
“You look…” He stopped himself.
Like her sister.
“…well,” he finished.
“Thank you.” Her voice was gracious. Controlled. “The seamstresses were very attentive.” She gave a slight shrug. “Very quick about it, too.”
The staff had wasted no time adjusting to reflect her position.
“They seem eager,” he said.
“Yes.” She picked up a slice of toast but did not eat it. “I think they’ve been waiting.”
“For a queen,” he clarified.
“For stability,” she corrected gently.
He looked down at his plate. “I don’t know what to say. I never meant—”
She interrupted. “You don’t have to explain, Lucas. I understand why we’re here.”
The practicality of it pierced him more than accusation would have.
“That doesn’t make it easier,” he said quietly.
“No.” She finally took a small bite of toast. “It doesn’t.”
A servant approached with plates of eggs. The young man’s hands trembled slightly while his eyes darted between king and queen as if he expected sparks.
Lucas forced himself to soften his posture. “Thank you, Tomas.”
The servant nearly bowed himself in half before hurrying away.
Sia traced the rim of her cup with her finger. “They’re watching us.”
“I know.”
“They’ll be watching the girls, too.”
At that, his attention snapped fully to her. “The girls are not part of this.”
“Aren’t they?” she asked softly. “Everything we do will shape what they believe about family and duty. Every word the staff says about us will eventually, somehow, make its way to one of the children.”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. She was right, and he hated it.
“They adore you,” he said after a moment.
“I adore them,” she replied. “But they’re confused.”
And that, at least, was the uncomplicated truth.
He reached for the tea pot at the same moment she adjusted the fruit bowl. Their fingers brushed with the slightest contact.
They both pulled back instantly.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“It was nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. The air shifted, now charged with awareness.
Lucas cleared his throat. “We’ll need to attend the council briefing this afternoon. They’ll expect you beside me.”
“Of course.” She straightened. “But have no worries. I won’t interfere with your… king stuff… unless you ask me to.”
“My king stuff?”
She shrugged, but a burst of footsteps interrupted them as they echoed down the corridor and were followed by high-pitched giggles.
The dining room doors flew open with the enthusiasm only children possessed.
“Papa!”
Three small figures tumbled in with their hair half-brushed, ribbons hanging half tied, and energy as bright as the rising sun.
And just like that, the strained quiet between king and queen shattered.
The girls went to Sia first. “Auntie Sia.”
Lucas watched from his seat. Celeste, Luna, and Stella clustered around her with their voices overlapping as they spoke. He was afraid he hadn’t accurately prepared them for this new reality.
Celeste, the eldest, stood straighter than the others with dark strands pinned back with barrettes. Luna hovered close with her hands twisting the ribbon at her waist. Stella, the youngest, circled them all and peered up at Sia with open fascination.
“Aunt Sia,” Stella said a little loudly. “Papa says you live here now.”
Sia knelt to their level without hesitation, just as she always had. “I do,” she said gently.
Celeste frowned. “Forever?”
Sia hesitated. Just for a second, but Lucas felt it even from a distance.
“Yes,” she said at last. “If your father will allow me to.”
Stella giggled. Luna smiled. Celeste did neither and he knew he was in trouble with her. Lucas looked away without acknowledging the comment.
The girls adored Sia. They always had. While he had never spent much time with her, she had been a constant through their childhood. She’d braided hair and read stories and knelt at Dian’s bedside when the illness worsened.
But this was different. Now Sia had their mother’s crown and stood where Dian once had.
After breakfast, he watched as the girls followed Sia out into the gardens as they peppered her with questions. Lucas caught fragments of their banter, about lessons, about meals, and about why she wouldn’t run around with them.
They laughed and the sound pierced him. He turned away and went to his office. When they returned, their warmth was gone.
Celeste answered his questions with stiff politeness. Luna avoided his eyes. Stella leaned against a pillar with her arms crossed in an imitation of defiance she hadn’t earned yet.
“You didn’t tell us Aunt Sia would be our stepmother,” Luna blurted out.
Lucas knelt in front of them. “I didn’t know how to explain it yet.”
Celeste’s gaze sharpened. “Mama was your wife.”
“Yes,” he said. The word scraped his throat raw.
“And Aunt Sia was her sister.”
“Yes.”
Celeste whispered, “Is Mama gone because you wanted Aunt Sia instead?”
The question blindsided him.
“No,” he said immediately. He forced himself to breathe. “Absolutely not. Your mother was my mate. My one true mate. Nothing changes that.”
Celeste absorbed this silently. Stella scowled. Luna’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.
“Then why did you marry her?” Celeste demanded.
Because the kingdom demanded stability. Because love had nothing to do with it.
“Because sometimes,” he said slowly, “duty causes us to make choices we never wanted to make.”
Luna’s voice trembled with anger. “I don’t like it.”
“I know,” he said.
They didn’t hug him when they left. They didn’t look back. Their grief stood between them like a wall because he believed he deserved it.
That night, Lucas stood on the balcony outside their chambers. Inside, Sia sat on the sofa reading. Anything to distract herself. He was slightly envious.
He could feel her presence the way one felt a wound that didn’t hurt but was dull and impossible to forget.
Dian had been his world. His bond to her had been absolute. No vow spoken yesterday could undo that truth.
There would be no traditional marriage here. No shared bed and no whispered endearments. He would not betray Dian’s memory.
And yet, the absence of touch felt heavier than he expected. Distance, he told himself, was the only way any of them would survive.
But it would cost him everything if they didn’t produce a son.