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“He started it.” Lucan pouts without looking away from me.
“You’re older than me.”
“By six months.”
“Still counts.”
Lucan flips me off with a sharp exhale. “I’m serious, though. Uncle Christian specifically asked you to look into Rowan when he arrived. You should’ve told us that from the start.”
My grin fades. “I didn’t think it mattered.”
“And now?”
I glance toward my multi-slate lying beside the desk.
mouse: Halvern says if you keep staring through the practice cube windows he’s filing another complaint.
me: can’t help it if my boyfriend’s distracting
The corner of my mouth kicks up.
Fuck me. Lucan’s right. I’m completely fucked.
Because somewhere between the hidden Noctis room and the night rides and Rowan falling asleep in my bed half the week, this stopped feeling temporary.
He hates waking up early unless he absolutely has to, so half the time I leave breakfast outside his practice room after training just to make sure he eats before disappearing into rehearsals for another six hours. And every single time, he pretends he doesn’t like it.
Rafe finally drags himself upright from the couch while Lucan wanders into my room like he owns the place, opening the liquor cabinet my aunt restocked last week.
“She seriously left the Veyran Reserve in here?” He pulls out one of the crystal bottles and squints at the label. “That’s optimistic.”
“You mean irresponsible.”
“Same thing in this family.” He pours himself a drink anyway before glancing back at me. “Now seriously. You didn’t think Rowan mattered before. What do you think now?”
I lean back against the desk, folding my arms. “I think Dad knows more than he’s saying.”
Lucan’s expression shifts. “Yeah. Mom too.”
Ever since the Legacy Gala, the entire house has felt different. Tense. Like everybody’s waiting for something to happen.
And since the Reach vote, security briefings seemed to multiply overnight. More guards. More patrols. More conversations stopping the second someone my age walked into the room.
Rafe appears in my doorway. “Can we spiral about family conspiracies after dinner? Some of us still need to get dressed.”
Lucan glances at the time on the wall display and swears. “Shit. Your mom’s going to kill us.”
“You say that about every event.”
“And every event, she almost does.”
Rafe disappears toward the showers while Lucan digs through the pile of jackets dumped across the couch. Somewhere down the hallway, I can already hear staff moving through the mansion levels below us, preparing for the transport arrivals.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Nowhere yet.” Lucan pulls a black jacket from the pile before glancing at his multi-slate. “Adrian’s back on Sero, though. I’ll head down to Black Chapel after Angela’s event and see if anybody’s heard something useful.”
“At this hour?”
