Page 25 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

“And what do you believe?”

Lucas stared out over the kingdom below.

“I believe,” he said slowly, “that if I bring another woman into that household, whatever fragile trust the girls have placed in Sia will shatter. Celeste barely allows herself to love again. Stella clings. Luna watches everything.” He swallowed.

Aldrek nodded once. “And Sia?”

Lucas's throat tightened unexpectedly.

“She has given them laughter,” he admitted. “Gentleness. Stability. If I cast her aside, or even wound her with the mention of another, it will fracture what little peace exists in that house. The girls have already buried one mother. Losing Sia would be losing their stepmother and their aunt.”

“And your heart?” Aldrek asked quietly.

Lucas stiffened. “Dragons mate once,” he said. “I buried mine.”

Aldrek’s gaze softened but didn’t waver. “You buried Dian. You did not bury yourself.”

Lucas couldn’t answer.

“The council sees lineage,” Aldrek continued. “You must see the legacy. Sometimes they are not the same.”

Lucas exhaled slowly. “I will make this work,” he said. “With Sia. I will not tear my family apart for their comfort.”

Aldrek inclined his head. “Then stand firm. But be certain, my king, that you are fighting for the right reason. I tell you this as a friend, not an elder. They’ve been patient thus far, but you know they won’t stay that way.”

Lucas left with fire still simmering beneath his skin but with a clearer head. There would be no new wife, no discarded daughters, and no surrender.

Even if it meant confronting the fact that he needed to rethink things with Sia.

Chapter 10

Sia

The whispers began softly just like they normally did.

Sia heard them in corridors when footsteps slowed just a fraction too long behind her. In the kitchens when conversation dipped the moment she crossed the threshold. In the gardens when gardeners pretended to admire roses while discussing succession as if it were the weather.

“It has been nearly a year.”

“Perhaps she cannot.”

“A king cannot wait forever.”

At first, she told herself it was just her imagination. Castles had echoes and silence could distort things into cruelty.

Until the murmurs grew sharper and less cautious. No one worried anymore that she might overhear.

One afternoon, as she turned the corner near the library, she halted as the sound of her own name drifted through the archway.

“…sleeping in the same chambers, of course,” a lady murmured.

“Then why no child?” another replied. “Perhaps she is not capable of conceiving.”

Not capable.

The words struck like thrown stones. Sia stepped back before they could see her. Her pulse thundered in her ears and tears ran down her cheeks.

They were right about one thing. She and Lucas did share a bed.