They sat at the table together; a quiet hush settled over the suite as if the world was holding its breath for them.
Trevor slid a plate toward Lucas—sliced fruit, toasted bread, and a soft-boiled egg in a porcelain cup. Nothing fussy, but it was warm and thoughtfully arranged, which made Lucas blink once and mutter something about not being royalty before Trevor cut him off with a fork pointed directly at his face.
"Eat. Or I'll call Windstone and let him decide your portions."
Lucas took the toast immediately. "Tyrant."
Trevor only smirked, then took a sip of his coffee, watching him for a moment. When he spoke again, the teasing faded, replaced by something cooler, measured.
"I asked Windstone to pull the temple records."
Lucas paused mid-bite. "Why?"
