Page 19 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

Sia had braced herself for resistance from the girls. Not tantrums so much, but coolness and distance. The sort of pushback that made a woman feel like a guest in her own home.

Instead, weeks into their new reality, she woke each morning to the soft patter of bare feet racing down the corridor.

“Sia?”

Stella never knocked.

She burst into the bedroom at dawn as though Sia might vanish overnight, with tangled curls and a lopsided nightgown, her eyes bright with the affection that only the youngest could give so freely.

“I’m here,” Sia would murmur and pull the blankets back.

And Stella would launch herself forward without hesitation. Lucas was usually an early riser, but if he was still in the bed, Stella would take turns snuggling each of them.

That was how the mornings had begun lately, with tiny arms flung around Sia’s waist, a small face pressed into her shoulder as if anchoring them both.

Luna followed more quietly but with her own rituals. She arrived carrying ribbons and hair clips.

Sia had learned that Luna used hair as a coping mechanism when it came to her feelings. So Sia sat, perfectly still while little fingers tugged and wove with intense concentration. The braids were usually crooked and uneven, and Sia often sent up a small prayer of thanks to her mother for raising her without a sensitive scalp.

She usually wore the treasures until after breakfast when the girls went for their studies. When she fixed them, Sia always made sure to at least incorporate the same ribbons and clips.

Celeste had been the hardest to figure out. Careful, observant Celeste had watched.

She watched the way Sia knelt to Stella’s height instead of calling her over. The way she thanked Luna for every ribbon, even when they clashed horribly with her outfit of the day. The way she never corrected their mother’s portrait placement in the east hall if the girl planted kisses on it and left it not quite straight.

But during afternoon walks through the gardens, she fell into step beside Sia. Close enough that their sleeves brushed. Close enough that it felt deliberate.

The invitation to their uncle’s wedding had arrived with gold embossing and excessive enthusiasm.

Their father’s younger brother, Liam, was tying the knot in the castle gardens.

“We’ll have the royal tailor make something suitable,” Celeste commented that evening at dinner. Royal protocol follower as always.

Sia glanced at her. “Or,” she ventured carefully, “we could go shopping.”

Three pairs of eyes lifted.

“Shopping?” Stella breathed as though Sia had suggested flying around the room like Peter Pan.

Luna perked up instantly. “Stores with the big windows?”

“Yes,” Sia said with a smile. “With big windows.”

Celeste’s fork paused midair. “Why would we do that? It’s not the way we usually do things for a big event. It’s what we did for your wedding.”

There it was, that instinct for doing things the way they had always been done.

“Because,” Sia replied gently, “there’s nothing wrong with doing things differently, and sometimes the choosing is the best part.”

Celeste frowned. “The tailor would allow us to choose. Tell her Papa. Tell her that’s how we do it.”

“Yes,” Sia agreed but refused to look at Lucas. She realized too late that she probably should have run the idea by him first. She sighed and continued on. She was already in it too deep. “But he brings bolts of fabric to a fitting room and basically tells you what you want. You sit. You nod. He nods. It’s all very dignified.”

Stella was already bouncing. “Let’s go.”

“And shopping with other people?” Luna pressed.

“There will probably be other people. And it’s loud,” Sia admitted. “And crowded. And full of mirrors that make you question your life choices, especially when you try on something that doesn’t match you at all. It’s even worse if you try on something too small and then can’t get it back off.”