Chapter 201: A fleeting kiss
The last attendant stepped away with a murmured bow, leaving the room in a hush broken only by the faint rustle of fabric as Lucas adjusted the fall of his coat‑cape.
He caught sight of himself again in the mirror, caught the gleam of gold embroidery, the rich shadow of violet‑black pooling like twilight at his shoulder, and let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.
"This is absurd," he murmured to no one in particular. "I look like I’m about to stage a coup, not a wedding."
The door opened without ceremony, a familiar presence spilling into the room like a shadow that fit too easily against his own.
Trevor.
He filled the doorway with the kind of quiet authority that needed no announcement. His own attire matched the grandeur, deep black and regal violet, the ceremonial sash crossing his chest, the silver of his house pin glinting like a blade at his collar. His dark hair was brushed back, but there was a looseness at the edges, a reminder that he had dressed quickly, that the world outside was already moving fast.
For a beat, he didn’t speak.
He just looked.
Lucas turned slowly from the mirror, the coat flaring faintly as he moved, and met Trevor’s gaze. There was no mistaking the way those storm‑dark eyes sharpened, catching every detail, every thread of gold filigree, and every subtle shift of plum and merlot in the tailored fabric.
Trevor stepped forward, measured and quiet, like approaching something rare. His hand lifted, brushing against the embroidery at Lucas’s shoulder, fingertips light but lingering.