Page 26 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

What they did not share was touch.

Night after night, they lay inches apart. Close enough that she could feel his warmth through the soft linens. Close enough to sense the steady rhythm of his breathing. Close enough that, if she shifted even slightly, their arms would brush.

Which they very seldom did.

Lucas always positioned himself carefully at the edge of the mattress, as though mindful of boundaries she had not drawn but felt nonetheless. His body remained still, disciplined, and controlled. He had not reached for her in his sleep after that one instance, nor did he ever turn unconsciously toward her warmth.

Sometimes she lay awake and stared at the canopy above, acutely aware of the space between them. Sometimes she wondered if he was awake too.

It made it harder that there was no anger between them. No harshness or cold words. Only restraint because Lucas was not attracted to her. And restraint, in the eyes of the council, was failure, and the weight of it settled squarely on her shoulders.

Of course it was her fault.

Dian had given him daughters. Three beautiful, bright girls with Lucas's eyes and their mother’s easy laughter. Dian had not struggled. She had not endured months of quiet speculation.

Perhaps she had also possessed something Sia did not. A softness. A warmth. A beauty that invited touch rather than endured it.

Sia had seen her own reflection often enough to know she was not delicate. Not luminous. She was taller where others were petite. Reserved where others were effortless. Her smiles required thought. Her laughter came measured.

She was composed. She might be the girls’ aunt, but she was nothing more than a replacement.

Lucas probably laid rigid beside her because he felt nothing at all. Or worse, he was disgusted by her.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had that thought, but now it crept in quietly and refused to leave. She replayed small moments, dissecting them mercilessly.

The way his hand had withdrawn that evening months ago when her fingers had brushed his by accident and the way his jaw tightened when she changed behind a screen, as if even the suggestion of her body unsettled him.

The way he never looked at her for too long. Men looked when they wanted, but Lucas didn’t look at all.

When the rumor reached her that the council had begun urging him to consider another marriage, something inside her went frighteningly still.

Not shattered, just still, as though her heart had simply given up and decided not to feel too much at once.

She didn’t cry or rage. The council wasn’t cruel, they were just practical. A kingdom required an heir and she had known that was why they got married. She just hadn’t anticipated the rejection.

What justification remained when she had never been given the chance? That evening, she requested a private audience.

Lucas stood near the fireplace when she entered their shared chamber. He had discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal forearms dusted with ash from the firewood he’d been adjusting himself. He looked tired.

There were faint shadows beneath his eyes. A tightness at the corners of his mouth that had not been there a year ago.

“Sia,” he said quietly. He always said her name as though it required care.

She clasped her hands before her to stop their trembling. “I have heard,” she began carefully, “that the council is concerned.”

His jaw tightened. “You should not be listening to gossip.”

“It is not gossip if it is true.”

Silence stretched.

The fire crackled softly between them. She forced herself to continue before courage failed her entirely. “If the kingdom requires an heir… and I have failed to provide one… then you should not be bound by obligation.”

His gaze sharpened instantly. “You have not failed. It’s not possible to fail when an attempt has never been made.”

The certainty in his tone should have soothed her. Instead, it deepened the ache. The attempt had never been made because he didn’t want to.

“But if I can’t have a son…”