Trevor was sitting at his study desk with a tablet open beside a sleek laptop, both screens half-filled with reports he hadn't read and correspondence he hadn't answered.
The cursor blinked. So did the notifications.
He didn't move.
Instead, he leaned back in the deep leather armchair and spun an expensive fountain pen between his long fingers—an idle gesture that betrayed more tension than he cared to admit. The ink had dried hours ago, but he kept twirling it, as if movement might summon clarity.
He had sent a message to Serathine not long after leaving Lucas. Nothing formal or coded. Just a direct request to meet him, because she deserved to hear it from him—not through Dr. Elaine's summary or court whispers. Lucas was dominant. Officially now. And even if the boy hadn't fully absorbed the weight of that truth, Trevor had.
Lucas was dominant.
Officially now. Clinically confirmed. Legally, still under the protections of House D'Argente—but that meant less than it should. Not with what this information could spark. Not with what he knew about the court's appetite for rarity.
Even if Lucas hadn't yet grasped the full weight of it, Trevor had.
He set the pen down at last, slow and deliberate, watching it roll a few centimeters before stopping—like everything else in this moment, poised on the edge of motion. The report from Dr. Elaine was still open on his tablet. Trevor had read it twice. Once as a strategist and again as something dangerously close to a man already too involved.
Dominant omega.
Genetically suppressed. Biologically unstable in the eyes of most nobles.
But in Trevor's eyes, it was something else entirely: unmatched compatibility.
He knew what that meant. What it could mean.
And more dangerously—what others would do with that knowledge.
There would be interest. Offers cloaked as political alliance. Quiet demands that came with power and legacy behind them. Some would come with ink. Others with coin. A few with teeth.
But none of them would come with Lucas's permission.
And that made all the difference.
Trevor's jaw tightened as he shut the laptop. It wasn't worth pretending tonight would be productive. He wasn't going to calculate troop deployments or draft his quarterly response to the Board of Northern Affairs. Not while the echo of Lucas's voice still rang in his memory, quiet and careful and completely unaware of the storm now aimed at his back.
Then you might have a chance.
Trevor exhaled—one hand pressed briefly against the center of his chest, steadying the pull he didn't yet have a name for.
A sharp knock echoed in the silence of his study before the door opened.
"You're not asleep yet. Good," Serathine said as she stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her with practiced ease. Her heels were silent on the marble. The deep green of her dress shimmered faintly under the study's warm lighting, an elegant match to the fire in her red hair and the quiet sharpness in her gaze.
Trevor didn't rise. "You're late."
"I stayed long enough to be polite." She walked toward the desk without waiting for an invitation. "Vilhelm made a toast comparing his wife to a trade route. I took that as my cue to leave before I broke glass."
Trevor snorted softly. "And they say northern nobles lack refinement."
"I consider it a public service. No one wants to see what happens when I start citing tariffs at full volume."
She reached for the tablet on his desk and turned it toward her. The title line glowed faintly: Reclassification Protocol—Subject 117.A.
"Elaine sent me the summary. I assume you read the full version."
"Twice," Trevor said. "And then a third time to make sure I wasn't imagining it."
Serathine scanned the screen with a critical eye, then exhaled slowly. "Dominant. Suppressed expression. No active pairing. No medical record that reflects it—not publicly."
"Yet," Trevor said. "I want to keep it that way."
"You're asking me to erase a clinical truth."
"I'm asking you to protect him," he corrected, voice quiet. "And to keep the imperial family out of it."
He didn't look away. Didn't raise his tone. But something in the pause that followed sharpened the air between them.
"Even if Caelan allows his children more freedom than most, Lucas is different. He's not just a son. He's an answer."
Serathine's gaze lifted. "You mean the dominant pairing issue."
"I mean the quiet crisis they've been ignoring for years," Trevor said. "Low compatibility. Failing bonds. Most dominant alphas can't reproduce. Not without someone like him."
She was silent.
"And Saha's King just happens to be a dominant alpha without a pair, despite trying for years," Trevor added, voice steady. "You know what will follow if the information becomes public."
He didn't blink. Didn't shift.
"We are at odds with Saha," he continued. "And Evrin Dax is hard to please. Lucas would be a shortcut."
Serathine didn't ask what kind. She already knew.
"A marriage contract," she said flatly.
"Well," Trevor said, "it would be a little more than that."
He didn't shift. Didn't soften.
"A contract marriage can end in divorce. But if this happens, Lucas wouldn't just be married. He'd be Queen of Saha. And Dax is an alpha who knows what he wants—and gets it."
Serathine exhaled through her nose. Not in surprise—just acknowledgment.
"Evrin Dax doesn't break unions," she said. "He builds empires with them."
"And if he thinks Lucas is the answer to his bloodline problem," Trevor said, "then it won't be just a proposal."
He leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled.
"We need a plan before we act. Nobles are already gossiping, loudly, that there has to be more to Lucas than you simply choosing him as your ward."
Serathine's lips tightened. "Of course they are. They've seen the ring. They've seen you."
"Which means we don't have the luxury of waiting."
She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Honestly? Misty seems less of a problem now than Lucas being dominant."
Trevor nodded. "Misty is out of his life now. Even if she does something, we can stop it before it reaches him."
He paused.
"But the other dominant alphas aren't as patient as I am."
A beat.
"Especially Dax. He's already over thirty and still no partner in sight."
Serathine's gaze narrowed. "And if the rumors of fertility strain are true, he doesn't have much time left to secure an heir."
"He doesn't need time," Trevor said. "He just needs a name."
The words hung in the air a moment longer than necessary.
Trevor leaned back in his chair, his gaze unreadable.
"I won't lie," he said finally. "I have the same reasons as the other dominant alphas."
There was no guilt in his tone. No shame. Just the truth.
"But at least I want to be honest with him."
A pause.
"Because fate doesn't let him have a choice. Not really."
Serathine didn't interrupt. She didn't soften. She only nodded once—slow, deliberate.
"You're not wrong," she said. "But honesty alone won't be enough to protect him."
"I know," Trevor said. "But it's where I start."
She crossed her arms loosely, her gaze distant now.
"He's young. Too young to see the trap being set. But not too young for the world to walk him into it."
"That's why I'm here," Trevor said. "To walk beside him—until he decides whether to keep me or cut me loose."
She looked at him. Really looked.
"You're not in love with him."
"No," Trevor said. "Not yet."
"But you would be."
He didn't answer.