Chapter 320: Chapter 320: The least he could do
He set it down carefully on the table between them, fingers uncurling one by one. "That’s an interesting question for an Emperor to ask," he said at last, his voice even but quieter than before. "Why do you think there’s an answer?"
"Did you ever hear about the former Emperor?" Caelan asked, turning the heavy gold signet ring on his finger as though it were a worry stone. "I’m not talking about history, but his personal life."
"No." Lucas’s mouth curved in something too thin to be a smile. "Misty made teachers drill me on manners and docility, not how to be useful." He let the jab settle before adding, "But I’ve read the history in the last year."
Caelan’s gaze held his. "You look like a copy of him," he said quietly. "And... he was a dominant omega. He saw, or lived, five lives before he could settle."
The words slid across the table like another folded note. For a heartbeat Lucas forgot to breathe. Five lives. Dominant omega. He had spent weeks telling himself he was mad, that the memories were trauma, hallucinations, or the product of a drugged adolescence. Then Trevor, Serathine, Dax, and even Windstone had believed him and told him there were others in the world like him, others who had vanished the moment the church got to them. And now the Emperor was sitting across from him, saying it out loud as if it were an item in a dossier.
His fingers curled back against the armrest. "That’s... an interesting story," he managed, the dryness of his tone barely covering the pulse hammering at his throat.
Caelan chuckled softly. "Well, I deserve it. I deserve your wariness, but I think this will help you understand what you are." He slid a book across the table, not leather-bound like an heirloom but a thick, battered journal in a photocopied binder, pages tabbed and highlighted in someone’s careful hand. "You can read it when you’re ready," Caelan said. "Trevor does a fantastic job at keeping you safe."
Lucas looked down at the binder without touching it, his thumb tapping once against his knee. The sight of it, photocopied pages instead of grand imperial archives, made something twist in his chest. There was nothing ceremonious about it, not an heirloom but evidence. Proof that the things he remembered weren’t only ghosts in his own head.
He forced his eyes back up to Caelan’s face. "And what do you expect me to do with this?" he asked quietly. "Other than panic?"
Caelan’s smile was small, almost rueful. "Read it. See that you’re not alone. While you are figuring it out, we are already bringing the church to its knees."
Lucas’s gaze dropped again to the binder. For a long moment he didn’t move. Five lives, he thought. Not one. Five. He had spent so much energy trying to seem sane, trying to appear functional even when the memories bled through his dreams and clawed at his waking thoughts. Now a stranger, his father, was sliding proof across a table like a briefing folder.
He reached out at last. His fingers brushed the cover first, then closed around it properly, drawing it toward him. The weight surprised him: heavier than it looked, thick with photocopied pages and handwritten margins. His thumb skimmed over the first tab without opening it. He wanted to. He wanted to see how someone could remain whole after not one life but five, to see what choices they had made, and what compromises had kept them from breaking.
"It’s not a holy book," Caelan said quietly. "It’s one man’s record of what he remembered. Some of it is madness; some of it isn’t. But it kept him from feeling completely alone."
Lucas held the binder on his knees, staring down at it. In the filtered light the photocopied pages looked almost grey-blue, like old carbon paper. "I’m not sure if reading it will make me feel less alone," he murmured, more to himself than to Caelan. "Or just... trapped in the same pattern."
Caelan’s fingers stilled on the signet ring. "Patterns can be broken," he said. "But only if you know what you’re caught in."
Lucas let out a slow breath and closed the binder again without opening the first page. He set it carefully on the table between them, his palms flattening on either side. His green eyes lifted, steady but edged. "Fine," he said softly. "I’ll read it. But don’t mistake curiosity for surrender."
A faint smile curved Caelan’s mouth, but he didn’t press. "I wouldn’t," he said simply. "That is the least I could do for you."
Lucas’s thumb brushed the edge of the binder one last time. ’Five lives,’ he thought. ’Let’s see how you did it.’ Then he sat back, chin lifting, ready at last to hear whatever the Emperor would say next.
Caelan let the silence stretch for a beat before speaking again. His thumb resumed its slow circle over the signet ring, but his voice was low and even.
"It’s your choice if you want anyone else to know," he said. "I haven’t told your brothers. I haven’t told the court. Only Serathine knows that I suspected you’d lived more than one life. Even Trevor doesn’t know the depth of it. I won’t use it against you, Lucas. I only wanted you to have a name for what you’re carrying."
Lucas’s eyes stayed on the binder. The edges of the pages were already beginning to fray under his fingers. "I understand," he said quietly.
The air shifted between them, the rawness of the moment cooling into something more formal. Caelan reached for a thin leather folder at his side and set it on the low table. "Now... the ceremony. Since you’re standing as Grand Duchess, there are certain technicalities we can’t avoid."
Lucas exhaled through his nose and straightened a little, grateful for the pivot to logistics. "I’ve already reviewed the drafts from Trevor’s staff."
Caelan’s mouth twitched. "Of course you have." He flipped the folder open, sliding a page toward Lucas. "These are the final adjustments. The oath itself can be taken in a private chamber before the public segment. It spares you a spectacle but still gives the nobles what they need to see."
Lucas skimmed the page, eyes moving quickly down the columns of names and timings. "And the guest list?"
"I trimmed it," Caelan replied. "Half the hall you already know. The other half will be watching you like hawks. But the titles and signatures will stand once you’re recognized; no one can claw that back."
"You’ll leave the dais with Trevor and Serathine. The rest is theatre." Caelan closed the folder again. "You don’t have to smile at anyone you don’t want to. Just stand there as yourself."
Lucas set the page back down, shoulders easing a fraction. "That I can do."
Caelan’s green eyes held his for a long moment. "Good," he said simply.
Lucas rose, tucking the binder under one arm. The chair creaked softly as he stepped back from it. "Then we’re finished?"
"For today," Caelan said. "Read the journal when you’re ready. You choose who should know about this."
Lucas inclined his head, the gesture small but precise. "Understood."
He turned toward the door, his coat falling back into place over his shoulders. At the threshold he glanced once over his shoulder, green eyes steady on the Emperor. "Thank you," he said, the words quiet but real.
Caelan only inclined his head in return, his hand stilling on the signet ring as Lucas walked out.
Windstone was waiting in the adjoining lounge, rising smoothly when Lucas emerged. Without a word he opened the door to the corridor and fell into step at his side. The two of them moved back through the east wing toward the waiting car, Lucas clutching the photocopied journal like a weight he had chosen to carry.