"Fine," Trevor said, the words smooth as if he were agreeing to something utterly harmless. "I'll play nice."
Lucas's fork paused over his plate just long enough for Trevor to notice. "Define nice."
Trevor's mouth curved, slow and deliberate. "Mia goes if she wants to go. No pressure, no implication that House Fitzgeralt expects her to smile through anything she doesn't like." His tone was steady, almost casual. "She'll walk in and walk out the same way she arrived, untouched by anyone's agenda but her own."
Lucas hummed, not quite satisfied yet. "And if she doesn't want to go?"
"Then she doesn't go," Trevor said easily, leaning back in his chair. "And if Dax calls again, I'll tell him the truth."
Windstone, who had been listening from a respectful distance, glanced up sharply. "Which truth, my lord?"
