Chapter 157: It’s starting.
Lucas had showered, but only because Trevor bribed him with fresh linen and threats of cold breakfast. His hair was still damp at the ends, brushing against the collar of the dark green lounge shirt he’d pulled on with little effort, half-buttoned, wrinkled, and soft from wear. The matching pants hung loose at the hips, and he walked barefoot, eyes half-closed, cradling a mug of tea as if it held the universe’s secrets.
The doctor was already waiting in the sitting room, standing beside one of the large armchairs, her coat neatly draped over the back and her sleeves rolled up to her forearms. She didn’t bother with bows or pleasantries.
"Grand Duchess," she said mildly, glancing up from the datapad. "You’re late."
Lucas blinked slowly, like the words had to pass through three layers of fog before reaching his brain. "Good morning to you too."
Trevor cleared his throat but did not move from his position just behind the couch, arms folded and hovering with the stealth of a military drone. He wasn’t going to interrupt, but he absolutely would if anything startled Lucas.
The doctor didn’t seem fazed. "I’m Dr. Monica Dixon. I reviewed your files from Palatine. You’re five weeks away from full pheromone drop. Secondary cycle stabilization has begun. Symptoms?"
Lucas lowered himself into the armchair like a prince choosing exile, curling one leg under him and taking another long sip from his mug. The tea was lukewarm now. Betrayal.
"Symptoms," he echoed, voice dry. "Mm, let’s see... crippling fatigue, unexplained rage at doorknobs, and a strong desire to throw Trevor into the garden whenever he tries to wake me up."
Trevor didn’t even blink. "You were promised warm pastries."
"And lied to," Lucas added flatly, eyes narrowing at the memory of a Windstone telling him that he would get food or coffee only after his bloodwork.