Chapter 40: The Interests of Nord
Lucas sat down, smoothing the hem of his sweater almost absently, his eyes flicking to the empty plate in front of him, then to the small, steaming carafe in the center of the table.
Before he could reach for it, the door opened again.
Lucius stepped in like someone who didn’t knock anymore. His coat was half-zipped, still catching wind from the east corridor, and a datapad was tucked under one arm, screen glowing faintly with alerts he clearly hadn’t read yet. His hair was neat—too neat, the kind of precise that usually meant someone else had done it for him.
His eyes went straight to Lucas. Not to Serathine. Not to Trevor. Just Lucas.
"Good," he said, like the word had been held under his tongue since dawn. "You’re awake."
Trevor didn’t bother hiding his smirk. "Please tell me you didn’t jog across the courtyard for dramatic effect."
Lucius ignored him. Mostly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, taking a cautious but confident step closer. "Did the doctor check in again? Are they still monitoring your vitals remotely? I asked for the data feed but they said it was restricted"—
"Oh gods, here comes the health-monitoring monologue," Trevor muttered, slouched comfortably in his chair, wrist flicking as he scrolled something casual on his own tablet. "Did you run here straight from your fiancée’s meditation chamber? You smell like designer incense and emotional avoidance."
Lucius didn’t look at him.
"I was passing through."
"You’re wearing a ceremonial coat, Lucius."