Chapter 11
Lucas
Lucas learned about Pavel’s engagement from his mother, who said it the way she said most of the shocking things she blurted out. While sipping coffee and staring him in the eye.
“Pavel is getting married next week,” she announced.
Lucas nearly choked on his coffee. “Pavel?”
His youngest brother, who still lived in his parents' home on the edge of the castle grounds. The same brother who had never done an honest day’s work or carried one responsibility. Also his mother’s favorite. That Pavel.
“Yes,” his mother said calmly. “He is very happy.”
That unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. “I didn’t even know he was dating anyone.”
“You don’t know everything about your brother.” She rose and refilled her mug. “The wedding is next weekend.”
Lucas stared at her wide-eyed. “That soon? No time for you to plan?”
She shook her head. “No need to plan. They don’t want anything extravagant like Liam. And once the baby gets here, everything for him is going to be more important than the wedding.”
This time Lucas sat his mug down before the shock caused him to drop it. “Pregnant? That’s quite the nonchalant way to slip that detail in. Pavel is having a baby?”
“He is, and that’s the last I want to hear of it. Your girls will have a cousin.”
Lucas knew not to cross his mother’s tone. He had always assumed Pavel would never marry. He had always been too happy with his life choices to remain a mama’s boy.
Yet when Lucas saw him the following week and saw the way Pavel’s hand rested instinctively over his fiancée’s stomach, something inside Lucas shifted.
Pavel didn’t seem trapped or cornered by the surprise pregnancy or marriage. Instead, he seemed proud. Terrified, yes, but proud. Radiant in the way that only happened when one was in love.
It upset Lucas in a way he hadn’t expected.
He had told himself for years that love for himself was unnecessary. That stability was enough, especially for the girls. That desire was a luxury he didn’t need and that longing was weakness.
Yet watching Pavel beam across a church hall decorated simply with white flowers and red roses, Lucas felt something sharp and unfamiliar press against his ribs.
He had known that happiness once, but he had buried the very same. He thought of Dian as this second wedding slammed into his memories harder than the first. His mind went back to when he had been the groom. Back to when he had felt chosen.
He had not allowed himself to wallow in how much he missed her in a long time, but at Pavel’s wedding, surrounded by brothers who were suddenly husbands, he felt the absence like an old bruise pressed too hard. But he also noticed that the pain wasn’t as sharp as it had been in the past.
And then there was Sia.
She stood near the long reception table, helping his mother adjust the girls’ dresses while laughing softly as the youngest spun in circles. Sia wore pale blue and it clung just enough to remind him she was not simply “help.” Not simply “temporary.”
She was warm and kind. And beautiful. He had to crush down the feeling he got when he saw her as a woman instead of a necessity.
He didn’t like that word.
They danced later when someone goaded them into it. His mother also insisted and the girls shrieked that Papa had to dance. Lucas hadn’t danced in years and suddenly he had several times since his new marriage.
Her smile was steady, but up close he saw the fine tension in it. There was nervousness in her eyes and something else, something quieter and heavier. A sadness he did not understand.
The band shifted into something slow and he held out his hand. Sia moved closer and Lucas placed his hand at her waist. He hesitated only a fraction of a second before pulling her closer than he ever had before.
He felt the exact moment she noticed. Her breath changed, just barely. But he felt it.
The room seemed to recede. The laughter, the clink of glasses, the swirl of silk and suits. It all faded to a blur at the edges. He had forgotten what it was like to hold a woman who leaned into him with trust.
Trust.
Sia fit against him as though she had always known how. She smelled faintly of something light and floral, something that didn’t demand attention but lingered all the same.
She tilted her head up to say something and stopped. Their faces were too close and the world narrowed to her mouth.
His thumb pressed slightly into the curve of her back as her fingers tightened at his shoulder.
It would have been so easy. One breath closer and he could taste those beautiful, full lips. He hadn’t kissed anyone since Dian. He hadn’t wanted to.
Until now.
The realization hit like cold water. This was not supposed to happen. This marriage was an arrangement. Stability for his daughters. Continuity for the crown. A practical solution born of necessity.
It was not meant to stir heat beneath his skin or make his body recognize her warmth as something to move toward. Maybe he should have contemplated the situation when she offered herself to him.
Sia’s gaze flicked to his mouth. Then back to his eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly.
The question was soft and concerned, and it irritated him.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Her brows drew together slightly. “You don’t look fine.”
“I assure you, I am.” The coolness in his tone was deliberate. A boundary.
She noticed it. He felt her straighten and step back to put space between them. “You don’t have to hold me as though I’m a porcelain doll,” she murmured, a flicker of steel beneath the gentleness. “I won’t shatter.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m aware.”
“Then stop acting like you’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Her eyes searched his. “No? You’re afraid of something.”
The music swelled around them and Lucas looked away, unable to hold her gaze.
Across the floor, Luna and Stella were spinning in dizzy circles with Pavel and their laughter pealed through the hall. Stella nearly tripped over her hem and Pavel scooped her up with exaggerated drama which made both girls shriek with delight.
And Celeste. Lucas's chest tightened.
Celeste was dancing with his mother. Actually dancing and not just standing stiffly at the edge. Not just watching from behind guarded eyes.
She was laughing. Full, unrestrained laughter.
It was Sia who had coaxed that from her over the past weeks. Patiently. Never pushing too hard. Sitting with her when she refused lessons. Listening when she spoke about her mother. Letting her grieve without trying to replace anyone.
Lucas had seen it. Celeste trusted Sia. That alone should have been enough to soften him.
Instead, it made the stakes unbearable.
“You’re pulling away,” Sia said under her breath. “Every time it starts to feel real.”
“This is real,” he replied.
“Is it?” Her chin lifted. “Because it feels like you’re dancing with a stranger you’re obligated to tolerate.”
The words struck.
He lowered his voice. “We agreed on what this is.”
“Yes,” she said. “An arrangement. I remember.”
The faint emphasis stung.
“You don’t want it to be that?” he asked in a tone sharper than he intended.
Color rose in her cheeks. “That isn’t what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
Her fingers loosened at his shoulder. Not completely but enough to let him know she was pulling away.
“I meant,” she said carefully, “that I don’t want to be treated like a threat every time you feel something.”
The honesty of it disarmed him. He pulled back then, enough to cool the air between them.
Sia blinked and confusion flickered across her face before she smoothed it away. She arranged her expression into something pleasant and controlled.
Below them, the girls had formed a small circle, attempting to copy the adults. Luna waved frantically at them.
“Papa! Sia! Look!”
Celeste caught Sia’s eye and grinned, a rare, unguarded thing. Lucas felt a fierce, almost painful surge of gratitude.
Celeste was happy tonight because of Sia. And here he was, freezing her out because he did not trust himself.
“Thank you for the dance,” Sia said politely. Formality where warmth had been.
He nodded and she stepped away. The loss of her was immediate and unwelcome.
The girls swarmed her at once. Stella wrapped herself around Sia’s waist. Luna grabbed her hand. Celeste hovered a moment before slipping her arm through Sia’s.
Sia bent down to Stella’s height and laughed at something whispered in her ear.
Lucas stood where he was while the music played and the celebration continued around him. For the first time in years, he felt something dangerously alive beneath the careful layers he had built over his grief.
Wanting. And deeply inconvenient.
Across the floor, Sia looked up and met his gaze. There was no accusation in her eyes now, only questions and hurt.
And that unsettled him far more than anger ever could.