Lucas tilted his head, gaze narrowing slightly. "You're rarely short on courage, Trevor. Which means whatever this is, I'm not going to like it."
Trevor gave a humorless smile. "You're developing an unfortunate habit of being right."
Before Lucas could press further, the door slid open with a soft chime. Windstone entered silently, as though he'd been waiting for a cue only he could hear. He carried the first course on a polished silver tray: grilled prawns in saffron butter, a touch of citrus, and a side of warm bread.
The scent filled the air instantly, delicate and disarming, grounding the tension just enough for Trevor to catch his breath.
"Thank you, Windstone," Trevor said, his tone measured.
Lucas took the plate with quiet gratitude, not because he was hungry, but because it gave him something to focus on that wasn't the pulse of dread in Trevor's voice.
The butler inclined his head. "Would you like the next course prepared immediately, my lord?"
