Chapter 106: Garden stroll
The garden smelled like dusk, sweet with blooming lavender, edged with the soft bite of trimmed cypress. Lucas walked without direction, hands loosely tucked behind his back, letting the stone path carry him where it pleased. Windstone had offered to escort him, but Lucas declined. He needed the quiet. The air. Something ungoverned.
He was dressed in a Sahan traditional coat, a political gift, though no one had demanded he wear it. It was green, the shade of spring olive, embroidered in silver at the hems with curling symbols he couldn’t read. It had been tailored for someone taller and broader, but the weight of it was a comfort. The sleeves brushed his wrists just right. The fabric moved like smoke.
It was meant for an omega. But longer. More formal. Less ornamental. A style reserved for consorts, perhaps. Or sacrificial lambs dressed too finely before a banquet.
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He liked it anyway.
The gravel crunched under his shoes. He passed under an arbor wired with electric lanterns disguised as white blossoms. The sun had begun to slide behind the western walls, casting long shadows through the columns, when he heard it—the sharp click of heels on stone. Not staff. Not friendly. He didn’t turn.
"I thought the palace gardens were for official guests only."
Lucas stopped walking. His reflection glanced back at him in the polished glass of the greenhouse doors ahead. Behind him, multiple figures. Not just one voice. A cluster.
He turned.
Four women stood behind her, but it was obvious who led. Her dark red jacket screamed wealth; the tailored cut hugged her like armor, not fashion. Sunglasses—designer, undoubtedly—sat atop her head like a crown, even though the sun had long since moved on. She held a slim clutch with the precision of someone used to ending conversations with one look. The women behind her mirrored her movements like well-trained hounds—quieter, paler, practiced in their deference.
Lucas didn’t flinch.
"I didn’t know the security in Saha was so lax," he said, voice mild. "Letting anyone with a wardrobe budget and a grudge wander the royal gardens."
The taller woman stepped forward, and her smile was the kind that never touched the eyes. "We’re guests."