Chapter 17
Lucas
Lucas regretted the fact that he couldn’t just shift. He contemplated it, just a pulse of instinct beneath his skin, to get Sia back to the house faster, but he was still unsure.
It was the perfect place to reveal himself, but if she didn’t know what he was, it could prove detrimental to winning her over. So, his dragon remained coiled and silent.
Besides, he liked the closeness.
He told himself it was because she fit perfectly in his arms. Because they now had physical contact that they had worked so hard to avoid. And he had no complaints about that. So he carried her.
The boot made everything more difficult because it made her weight off balance. He adjusted his hold and walked, steady and deliberate, careful not to jar her injured ankle.
She was lighter than she should have been. Or perhaps he had simply just noticed her physicalness now. A slight pang of regret washed over him. He should have carried her to their chamber on their wedding day, but they had barely even touched the entire time.
He had a lot to make up for.
Her arm rested around his shoulders and her fingers curled lightly at the nape of his neck. Every so often, her breath brushed his throat when she shifted, and the awareness of her made his chest tight.
He had been angry in the clearing. No, not angry. Afraid. He had felt a territorial flame beneath his ribs. Pure jealousy.
He adjusted his grip under her knees. “You doing okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Sia replied and adjusted her arm looped around his neck. “You’re the one who insisted on scooping me up like a sack of flour.”
“You are the least flour-like person I know.”
“Rude.”
He huffed a laugh and kept walking, careful of roots and stones. There was no way he was letting her hobble to her parents’ place no matter how distracting she proved to be.
“Lucas.”
“Mm?”
“If you drop me…” She let the threat remain implied.
“I’m not going to drop you.”
“You almost walked into that tree.”
“I was surveying the terrain.”
“You were looking at me.”
He nearly missed his step right then. “I was not.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You absolutely were.”
He shifted his gaze pointedly to the path. Just as his boot caught on a stone the size of a traitor.
There was a split second of realization followed by a spectacular loss of dignity. His foot slid and his balance tipped. His brain, normally capable of running a scenario without disaster, supplied nothing useful.
“Oh sh…,” Sia squealed as he basically left her floating in mid-air.
“I’ve got you,” he said, which would have sounded heroic if his voice hadn’t cracked.
He twisted on instinct and turned his body so his back hit the ground first. They went down in a graceless tangle of limbs and indignation. Lucas barely had time to brace for impact before Sia landed squarely on his chest.
All the air left him in one dramatic, humiliating whoosh which closely resembled the sound of a goose.
For a moment, there was only sky above him and Sia’s hair in his face and the profound realization that lungs were important.
Sia pushed up on her hands and looked at him through really wide eyes. “Lucas! Are you okay?”
He opened his mouth but no sound came out.
She blinked down at him. “Lucas?”
He tried again. A wheeze emerged that was not impressive.
She scrambled away from him. “I squished you.” She pushed on his chest. “Speak to me.”
He managed a tiny shake of his head as he fought for both oxygen and dignity.
“Say something!”
He finally sucked in a shallow breath that felt like he inhaled through a coffee stirrer. “You… are not… heavy.”
“Well, that sounded like a lie.”
“It wasn’t, I promise.” He coughed, then groaned. “I just forgot how breathing works.”
She stared at him for half a second longer before she started laughing.
Not a polite chuckle. Not a restrained giggle. Full, unladylike, snorting laughter that echoed through the trees.
He glared up at her. Or tried to. It was difficult to look stern while pinned under the woman you were trying to impress.
“You dropped me,” she said between laughs.
“I heroically shielded you from the ground.”
“You tripped over a pebble.”
“It was a rock. A malicious rock.” He pointed at her. “And I told you that you snort.”
Her laughter only intensified, and despite the fact that his ribs felt personally betrayed, a grin tugged at his mouth. The tension of the afternoon loosened like a knot finally coming undone.
“Did you actually cuss?”
“Me?” She made a mock gasp of indignation. “I am a queen; I’ll have you know. Queens do not cuss.”
“I’ll remember you said that the next time I drop you.”
A new round of laughter burst out and mingled with the trees.
She wiped her eyes. “We must look ridiculous.”
“We are ridiculous.”
A breeze rustled the canopy above them. Somewhere, a bird made an indignant chirp, as if even wildlife disapproved of their coordination.
Sia’s laughter softened into breathless giggles. She looked down at him, her expression warm and a little sheepish. “Thank you for twisting so I didn’t hit the ground.”
“You were already injured from your own clumsiness,” he teased. He shrugged as much as he could with her still sprawled across him. “I’m nothing if not committed to dramatic sacrifice.”
“You’re very brave. And very flat right now.”
“I would appreciate being slightly less flat.”
She eased off his chest and rolled to the side with a small wince as she protected her ankle. He sucked in a full breath at last, the sweet, miraculous gift of oxygen flooding his lungs.
He lay there for a second and stared up at the canopy. “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
“Oh? Anything interesting?”
“Mostly the girls dancing around telling me to do it again, Papa, do it again.”
They both dissolved into laughter again, softer now, the kind that left them a little wrung out and lighter than before.
After a minute, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Okay. New plan.”
“No more heroic carrying?” she asked.
“Oh no. I’m still carrying you. But I’m going to look at the ground like it personally offended me.”
She held out her arms with exaggerated regality. “Very well. Chauffeur me onward.”
He rose carefully and stretched to make sure nothing was injured other than his ego. He brushed leaves off his back, and crouched beside her. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
He scooped her up again and she settled against him, quieter now, one hand resting over his heart.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked.
He started down the path; eyes narrowed at every potential hazard. “Yeah,” he said, and meant it. “I’ve got you.”
And this time, he made very sure the path had nothing left to say about it.
She shifted in his arms and her gaze drifted across the trees as he walked. Not flustered, just thoughtful.
He studied her profile, and for the first time, he truly saw her. Not just as the convenient queen or just the woman thrust into a political union neither of them had chosen.
But as Sia.
The girl who had once been promised a life splashed in color and sunlight and open fields. A respectable artist destined for exhibitions and patrons. A future shaped by her own hands that she had set down.
All of it. For him and for his daughters. For peace, while losing her own.
He had known it in an abstract way before. But walking this long road with her weight in his arms, feeling the careful way she masked her pain so as not to inconvenience him, it broke something open inside his chest.
She had never complained.
Not about leaving her passion for painting. Not about the gossip or the coldness he had kept between them like a defensive wall. And yet he had doubted her loyalty because she listened to music in the woods.
Shame burned low and steady.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” she murmured.
He blinked down at her. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Your jaw does that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The grinding one.”
He exhaled slowly and forced his teeth to unclench.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
Her gaze sharpened slightly. “For the attempted abduction or the fall hazard?”
“For doubting you.” The words felt heavier than she did. She studied him, searching. All the teasing left her expression.
“I didn’t doubt you because of the musician,” he added quietly. “I doubted because I am… unused to sharing you with anyone.”
The confession scraped his throat on the way out. They walked a few more steps before he continued.
“I know what you gave up,” he said. “I know this life is not the one you chose. And still you show up for it. For the people. For the girls.”
He tightened his hold unconsciously.
“For me.”
Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t awkward now. It was tender.
“I never meant to imply you were careless with your vows,” he said. “Sham though they began.”
Her fingers flexed lightly against his collar and caused something in his chest to crack wider. He had been clinging to the idea that she resented him. That she endured him and her smiles were nothing more than obligations.
But she was struggling just as fiercely as he was.
Trapped in a marriage built for diplomacy while trying to find herself inside a crown and trying to find him inside a king. He stopped walking and she looked up at him with surprise and curiosity in her eyes.
“I don’t want this to remain a formality,” he said, the words coming with startling clarity. “I don’t want a marriage in name only.”
Her breath trembled.
“I want…” He hesitated, then pushed through it. “I want a real one. If you’ll have it.” The vulnerability felt like stepping off a cliff without wings.
She didn’t answer immediately, but she didn’t look away either. When she didn’t speak, he kept walking. Emotions circled in his head and he wondered if he had said too much. By the time they reached her parents’ home, the sun was lowering, and he had made another decision.
When her mother flung the door open and gasped in delight at the sight of him carrying her daughter, Lucas straightened his shoulders.
“I’ll be staying,” he announced calmly.
Sia’s brows lifted.
“If that is acceptable,” he amended.
Her father looked moments away from bursting with pride.
Her mother clasped her hands. “Your Majesty, our home is yours!”
“Lucas, please stay.” He glanced down at Sia. Her eyes were soft. Uncertain, but hopeful.
“I believe I will,” he said carefully, “remain here with my wife for a few days.”
Wife.
The word no longer felt like a political arrangement. It felt like a possibility.
And for the first time since their wedding, he allowed himself to imagine that it might become something real.