Page 75 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

Captain Bryce stepped inside, his most trusted guard. “My king.”

Lucas exhaled slowly. “How many of Voilear’s men traveled with him?”

“Roughly two hundred, sire. Camped beyond the southern ridge.”

Lucas’s fingers curled against the windowsill. Two hundred was not a diplomatic escort. It was a message.

“Double the watch,” Lucas ordered. “Discreetly. Send riders to Onyxheim tonight. I need to meet with King Jakob’s answer within the fortnight. Do the same with King Sven of Stagholt.”

Bryce hesitated. “Do you believe Voilear means to march?”

“I believe,” Lucas said, voice low, “that he believes I am vulnerable.”

He finally turned.

“And I intend to prove him wrong.”

“As you wish.”

“And Bryce. Be sure to tell everyone to stay alert. There is nothing noble about that man, so who knows what he’ll try.”

Bryce bowed sharply and left. Lucas remained where he was and stared at the horizon where the southern ridge cut against the sky.

Somewhere beyond it, Voilear was likely already drafting letters. Already weaving his narrative. Already promising a future forged in fire and male succession.

Let him. Lucas would gather kings and strengthen the borders. And if war came, he would meet it with dragon fire of his own.

But beneath the determination, beneath the rising strategy and cold resolve, one thought pressed heavier than the rest. If the council forced his hand and alliances required concessions, and if producing a son became a demand, what would it cost Sia?

What would it cost them?

Lucas clenched his jaw. They had come so far, but he didn’t want to push her. And he would never sacrifice her. Not to Voilear. Not to the council. Not even to save the throne.

Outside, the wind shifted.

And far to the south, beyond the ridge, a thin curl of smoke began to rise. It grew too strong to be a campfire and too deliberate to be coincidence. It was a signal.

Lucas saw it and understood. This was not a challenge in his chamber anymore.

It was the first move of a war.

Chapter 26

Sia

The first time Sia noticed something was different was purely by accident.

Lucas was off meeting with advisors over some conflict, and Sia had wandered to the girls’ room after spending time in her sanctuary. As she bent to kiss Stella’s forehead, the little girl’s skin burned hot beneath her lips.

“Oh no, little one. You’re getting sick.” She went and got the tonic to break the fever. “I hope the others don’t catch whatever it is.”

It took a bit of coaxing to get Stella to wake up. When she opened her eyes, they were glazed and dark. Stella took the tonic while Sia murmured soft reassurances and smoothed damp curls from her forehead.

Sia sat with her for a bit after Stella went back to sleep, surprised that Stella slept so peacefully while she was burning up. She checked the other girls before she headed to her room, but their skin was cool to the touch.

As a precaution, she left a note for the chef to prepare chicken soup. She had a feeling that the next few days were going to be rough around the castle.

But when Stella charged into her room at dawn the fever was gone. Not diminished. Not reduced. Just gone.