Page 24 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

Lucas felt it then. A low burn beneath his skin. His dragon stirred, irritated by the dismissive tone, by the implication. By the audacity.

Celeste’s laughter in the gardens. Luna’s small hand in his. Stella’s solemn, searching eyes.

“I don’t care how many times we have this same conversation, but leave my daughters out of it. I will not have my children diminished in this chamber,” Lucas said, his voice calm but edged with steel. “Ever.”

“The throne requires stability,” another elder pressed on. “A male successor strengthens alliances. Secures the line. Ensures continuity of the dragon throne.”

The dragon throne.

As if his daughters were not born of that same ancient fire.

“The line is secure,” Lucas replied.

“With respect, Your Majesty, this was the whole purpose of your marriage. If Queen Sia has not conceived by now, it may be prudent to consider alternatives.”

Alternatives.

The dragon did not stir this time. It roared. Heat flashed through Lucas's veins, a surge so sharp he gripped the armrest of his chair to keep from rising. His vision flickered at the edges.

“You suggest,” he said softly, dangerously, “that I take another wife.”

“A strategic marriage would not be unprecedented. It would be… responsible.”

Responsible.

As if love were a treaty. As if a woman were a vessel. As if Sia were a failed investment. As if his daughters were footnotes.

“The girls,” another elder added dismissively, “are beloved, of course. But they are not what the realm requires.”

Something inside Lucas snapped.

“The realm,” he said as he rose slowly to his feet, “requires loyalty. Strength. Wisdom. It requires a ruler who does not discard those under his protection the moment they prove inconvenient.”

The temperature in the chamber seemed to climb with him.

“My daughters matter,” he continued, each word deliberate. “They are not lesser because they were born female.”

Silence met him. Hard, calculating silence.

“And Sia?” Elder Aldrek finally spoke carefully. “I warned you of this, Lucas.”

Lucas hesitated. Because here was the fracture line. He and Sia shared a roof. Shared responsibility. Shared silence. But they did not share a bed in true form. They occupied opposite sides of it, separated by ghosts and restraint.

“There will be no second marriage,” Lucas said finally. “This discussion is closed.”

The council did not look satisfied but no one spoke.

Later that evening, Lucas sought out Aldrek in his quarters.

His old friend sat beside the open balcony with his silver hair stirred by the wind and his eyes sharp despite his years. He had advised Lucas's father before him, and his grandfather before that.

“You are furious, but not surprised,” Aldrek observed mildly as Lucas entered.

“They want me to replace her,” Lucas said without preamble. “As if wives are chess pieces.”

Aldrek studied him. “Is that what angers you?”

“They speak of Sia as though she has failed. As though the girls do not count. As though the only worth in this castle is a son.”