Page 23 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

Not politeness. Not partnership in the civic sense. But what he saw in Liam.

Pure happiness.

At the reception, when the new wife leaned into Liam when he spoke, Liam had brushed a thumb over her knuckles when he thought no one was looking.

Lucas had noticed. And that had been the problem.

Because when he’d glanced down at his own hand resting on the edge of the table, there had been no answering hand. No quiet squeeze. No unspoken understanding shared across a crowded room.

Just the faint indent where a ring had once been. He straightened his tie now, jaw tightening.

It wasn’t envy. He refused to name it that. It was… awareness. A recognition that whatever Liam had found was made of something sturdier than obligation. Something warmer than compatibility.

He’d had warmth once, with Dian. A feeling he never expected to feel again.

Lucas dragged a hand down his face and forced the thoughts away. He was not doing this today.

The council meeting would start in twenty minutes. Budget revisions. Various permits. Practical, measurable problems. The kind he knew how to solve.

Not this quiet ache that had followed him home from the wedding and taken up residence somewhere behind his ribs.

He stepped back from the window and reached for the binder on his desk. The familiar weight grounded him. Agendas. Reports. Numbers neatly highlighted in yellow. Order.

He preferred order.

Love, as Liam had just proven, was a wildfire, all consuming and impossible to control. And Lucas had spent most of his life making sure nothing burned out of control in Crystafalls.

He slipped on his jacket and squared his shoulders. The mirror behind the door reflected a man composed, capable, and entirely put together. King Lucas, ready for duty.

No one at that long polished table in the council room would guess that he’d stood under twinkling lights a week ago and felt something in him tilt.

He reached for the doorknob and paused for a second. He was happy for Liam. Truly.

But as he headed down the hallway toward the council chamber, the hum of voices already drifting out beneath the door, Lucas couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that while his brother had just begun something extraordinary, he himself was quietly letting something essential go dim.

He tightened his grip on the binder and pushed the door open into much safer territory. But once he stepped into the room, the council chamber instantly felt colder than usual.

Lucas sat at the head of the long table with the royal crest carved into the stone behind him. It had always felt like heritage. But for some reason, today it felt like an accusation.

The matter began politely just like it always did. But that quickly changed when they refused to stay on topic.

“My king,” one elder began with his fingers steepled. “It has been nearly a year.”

Lucas's heart dropped but he did not feign ignorance. “Just say it.”

A shuffle of paper. A glance exchanged between elders.

“There has been no announcement,” another said carefully. “No indication of an heir.”

The word landed heavily.

Heir.

Lucas's jaw tightened. “I have heirs.”

“Daughters,” he was corrected.

A stillness fell over the room.