Chapter 328: Chapter 328: Brother
Trevor’s hands slid lower as he kissed him, palms flattening over Lucas’s hips, thumbs pressing a slow line just above the waistband. The weight of them made Lucas’s breath stutter; then Trevor shifted his stance and, with a movement that felt both effortless and deliberate, lifted him.
Lucas gave a surprised sound against his mouth as his back hit the wall, warm hands holding him steady, Trevor’s body pinning his lightly to the paneling. His legs tightened instinctively around Trevor’s waist, the world tilting until the only thing he could see was violet eyes up close and a mouth that wouldn’t stop kissing him.
"Gods..." Lucas muttered against his lips, half a laugh, half a groan. "You’re going to ruin my jacket."
"Let it wrinkle," Trevor murmured back, voice rougher now. "You’re mine for five minutes, remember?" His fingers pressed at Lucas’s hipbones like punctuation, keeping him anchored as he kissed him again, deeper, the scent of him blotting out the last trace of champagne and perfume from the hall.
For a heartbeat the noise of the party might as well have been another city. Lucas’s pulse thudded high in his throat, matching the slow drag of Trevor’s mouth at the corner of his jaw. He tipped his head back against the paneling, green eyes hooded but glinting. "You’re insane," he whispered. "Someone’s going to..."
A knock at the door.
Both of them froze.
"Sir?" Windstone’s voice, perfectly neutral but carrying through the wood. "They’re ready for you in the east hall. We should be moving."
Lucas let his head fall forward to Trevor’s shoulder with a groan, every inch of him sagging in frustrated disbelief. "Of course," he muttered. "Of course it’s now."
Trevor huffed a laugh against his neck, setting him gently back on his feet, smoothing the creases of his coat. "Your timing’s cursed," he said quietly, brushing a thumb over Lucas’s cheek once more before stepping back. "Breathe. We’ll finish this later."
Lucas smoothed his hair, straightened his jacket, and gave Trevor a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused. "We’d better," he said under his breath. "Or I’m going to start staging my own escapes."
Trevor’s mouth curved into a quick, wicked smile. "Deal. Now let’s go make the Empire believe we’re still perfectly composed."
—
Ophelia had never stood in a hall like this and felt so much like she belonged. She was in the second tier of seating, close enough to see the LED panels catch on the imperial crest, close enough that the perfume and camera flashes rolled over her like a tide. Odin had made sure of it; the invitation had arrived in a white envelope with a handwritten note and a seat assignment only the inner circle would recognize.
She had dressed for the camera lens rather than the ceremony. The gown was a liquid slip of midnight silk cut on the bias, expensive enough to whisper its price every time it moved. At her throat a choker of black diamonds caught the soft stage light, and earrings like small chandeliers brushed her jaw when she turned her head. The look had been chosen to echo what she’d seen on the arms of duchesses at Serathine’s galas.
She could feel it working. Eyes flicked her way as much for the man who had walked her past the checkpoints as for the jewelry glittering at her ears. She kept her posture perfect, hands folded loosely over a clutch, and chin tilted just a fraction higher than courtesy required.
Ophelia’s pale-blue eyes tracked every step Lucas took, the new ring flashing under the LEDs like a signal flare. Trevor’s hand stayed at his back as if welded there, and that girl, the rose-quartz one, Mia, hovered at his shoulder with a tablet like she was a staffer instead of a lady. They moved in such a way that it was nearly impossible to approach Lucas.
She tightened her grip on her clutch until the diamonds at her throat bit lightly against her skin. They thought they could keep her out of that circle. Serathine, Trevor, even the imperial brothers, all of them had kept her away from him since the wedding. But Lucas had always been soft with her, always listened when she tilted her head just so and made her voice sweet enough. He’d listen again.
He wouldn’t refuse her if she could just get close enough. He never had. Not when they were children, not when she’d whispered Misty’s plans in his ear. He’d always been the one to take her side in the small wars of their house. He’d always protected her, even when he needed saving himself. That was the opening she would use.
Down below, the ceremony shifted into its last movement: the handshakes, the signed papers, and the careful smiles for the cameras. The court’s attention began to soften and scatter, like a school of fish sensing food in the water. Ophelia leaned slightly forward in her seat, watching for the seam she needed, a gap in the choreography, a misstep in the procession, any moment when Trevor’s eyes were elsewhere and Mia’s tablet was pointed the other way.
There. At the edge of the press line, a cluster of dignitaries peeled away from the stage to speak with an aide. Mia moved to intercept them, Trevor leaned toward a security man, and for the first time all evening, Lucas was standing a half-step apart.
Ophelia rose smoothly, the midnight silk of her gown sliding against her legs like water. Her jewelry caught the light as she descended the side steps with perfect, practiced composure, every move calculated to look like a guest being ushered toward the receiving line. In her mind she could already see it: Lucas turning, seeing her, surprise softening his eyes.
All she had to do was smile, speak his name in that careful tone, and step into the gap. In front of everyone. Before anyone could stop her.
"Brother, congratulations on your naming ceremony."
The words slipped from Ophelia’s mouth like poisoned honey. Her voice carried just enough to be heard over the polite applause, perfectly pitched for the nearest cameras and microphones.
A few heads in the front rows turned, surprised at the informal address; security’s eyes flicked to her for half a beat, but her poise and the cut of her gown bought her another second of grace. She felt the ripple run through the crowd. Who is she? How did she get that close? exactly the effect she wanted.
Lucas’s green eyes found hers across the space, and for a heartbeat she thought she saw it: the flicker of surprise, the softening she’d rehearsed in her imagination. She stepped forward into that moment, smile widening a fraction, every inch of her body language telegraphing intimacy, familiarity, the little sister come to offer public congratulations.
Inside, her pulse thudded hard against her necklace. This was it, the gap she had been waiting for. She could almost feel Odin’s hand on her back, urging her on, the plan unfolding exactly as she’d pictured it. If she could just keep everyone looking at her like this, if she could just hold Lucas’s attention for one more breath, the rest would fall into place.