Page 7 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

The night he married Dian had been nothing like this.

Instead, it had been bright and clumsy and utterly alive. Laughter had spilled out of them the moment the door closed, the kind that left their sides aching and their words tangled together. They’d stumbled into the room half-grinning, half-breathless, shedding formality with every step, as though marriage had given them permission to be exactly who they were.

Dian had reached for him without doubt, her hands warm and sure as she pulled him closer with a confidence that made his chest feel too small to hold his happiness. She had looked at him then with a smile so full it bordered on wonder, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real. As if he were the answer to a question she’d been asking her whole life. Home, written plainly on her face.

There had been no hesitation. No careful measuring of consequences. No ghosts standing watch in the corners of the room. Only joy, unchecked and fearless, rushing in where it pleased.

Her hair had slipped loose beneath his fingers and dark strands had brushed his wrists as she laughed again, softer this time. When she whispered his name, it wasn’t a plea or a question, it was affectionate like she was sealing something precious between them. Candlelight had danced along the walls and thrown warmth across bare skin and hopeful smiles. Even the bed had seemed to protest their happiness with a creak that made them laugh all over again.

Every touch had felt like a promise kept. Every kiss, an affirmation they didn’t need to speak aloud. The room had been thick with belonging and with certainty that it was right.

He had fallen asleep that night with Dian tangled against him, her legs draped over his, her breathing deep and even. Her heartbeat had pulsed steadily beneath his palm, solid and reassuring. In that moment, wrapped in her warmth and the simple miracle of shared joy, Lucas had foolishly believed that happiness was permanent if you loved hard enough.

Life had proven him wrong.

The memory faded and left him hollow. Lucas turned his head just enough to see Sia’s outline in the darkness. She hadn’t moved. Perhaps she was asleep. Perhaps she was staring at the same ceiling and counting the same regrets.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, so quietly it barely existed. The words were meant for her, for Dian, for himself. He wasn’t sure anymore.

He stayed where he was, rigid and awake,and convinced himself that restraint was kindness and that this cold, careful space between them was the best thing he had to offer.

Beside him, his new wife slept alone.

Chapter 4

Sia

Sia hadn’t had any easier of a time. The walk to Lucas's chambers had felt longer than it should have.

Their footsteps echoed down the stone corridor filled with paintings that represented generations of Vanstorm history watching them pass. Sia kept her hands clasped in front of her. Her fingers were numb beneath the lace of her gloves.

Lucas walked beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, but not quite. His body was tense and his posture was rigid, as if every step were a decision he might regret. She already had wondered how much more regret she could hold inside.

“Well,” he said at last as he cleared his throat. The word fell flat, unfinished.

Sia waited, her pulse ticking loudly in her ears.

“Well,” he repeated, quieter this time. “We’re… here.”

They stopped in front of the heavy wooden door at the end of the corridor. It stood solid and foreboding, which sent a chill up her spine. His chambers. Well, their chambers, now.

“Yes,” Sia said, because silence felt worse. “We are.”

Lucas nodded and kept his gaze fixed on the door instead of her face. For a moment, she thought he might say something meaningful, apologetic or explanatory. Instead, he reached for the handle.

“I suppose,” he said, then paused as his jaw tightened. “If you need anything, anything at all, you should say so.”

The offer sounded formal and safe.

Sia managed a small smile that she didn’t feel at all. “Of course.” She couldn’t say that she just wanted to go home. This was her home now.

Another silence stretched between them that was thick and uncomfortable. She could feel all the words they weren’t saying press in from every side. This wasn’t what either of them had wanted and now they were alone so they didn’t have to pretend to be happy.

No one else really cared if they were happy. They were married now, so that was all that was necessary. Happiness was a luxury that wasn’t required.

Lucas finally opened the door and stepped aside to let her enter first, the gesture polite to the point of distance. The room beyond was large and spare, all dark wood and high ceilings, with the bed dominating the space. A fire burned low in the hearth and cast a warm glow that did nothing to soften the tension.

Sia crossed the threshold with her skirts whispering over the floor. Lucas followed and closed the door behind them with a quiet, final click.