[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 93: Honeymoon to Saha (2)

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: Honeymoon to Saha (2)

Dax’s smile widened at that—lazy, unbothered, and far too entertained. The kind of smile that had launched wars and ended negotiations. He took another step down, just enough to be eye-level with Trevor, even though the marble stairs still gave him a slight height advantage.

"Return? But you’ve just arrived," he said, his voice silked with mischief. "Wouldn’t that be rude, even for you?"

"Lucas, you can relax; he is just butthurt that he didn’t have a chance to get to you." Trevor turned to Dax. "You should have been more polite with Serathine."

Dax let out a slow, incredulous laugh—low and rich, like someone truly savoring the absurdity of being called out in front of a crowd of soldiers, a Grand Duchess, and a very, very smug Trevor Fitzgeralt.

"Oh, I was polite," Dax drawled, hand resting lightly on the curve of the banister. "I just wasn’t desperate. You, on the other hand—"

"I was punctual," Trevor cut in, all steel beneath silk. "There’s a difference."

Lucas, for his part, didn’t look away from either of them. He crossed his arms slowly, like this was just the opening act of something far more dramatic, and he had front-row seats.

"Should I be flattered," he asked lightly, "or concerned that the King of Saha is still hung up on what might’ve been?"

Dax’s gaze slid to him, full of equal parts appreciation and menace. "Oh, flattered," he said. "Definitely flattered. Concerned comes later."

"Are you two sure that I’m the problem here? To me, you two look like a strained couple."

Dax actually laughed at that—sharp, amused, and just a little dangerous.

"Oh, he wishes," he said, tilting his head toward Trevor with a grin that held far too many teeth. "But unfortunately for him, I like my partners a little more... expressive."

Trevor didn’t even blink. "And I like mine sane."

Lucas made a noise that could have been a cough or a laugh. "Then I suppose I’m no one’s type."

"You’re exactly the problem," Dax said smoothly, his tone far too pleased. "You walk off a plane and the whole damn continent shifts. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed."

Trevor’s jaw tightened, just slightly. "He’s not the problem. He’s mine."

Lucas raised both brows. "Possessive and territorial. If I end up stabbed, I want that in the autopsy notes." NovelFire

Windstone muttered something like "Optimistically assuming stabbing would be the worst of it," but no one acknowledged it.

Dax just smiled again, quieter this time. Less theatrical. "Well. Let’s not ruin a perfectly good arrival with more dramatics. There’s dinner waiting. And a room," he added, eyes flicking to Lucas again, "with a view."

Trevor’s hand didn’t leave Lucas’s waist.

And Lucas, finally, leaned into it—just a little.

"I’m sure Saha will be unforgettable," he said. "One way or another."

—

The dining hall in Saha’s royal palace was a deliberate contrast to the sun-bleached exterior. Where the outer walls stood proud in carved stone and bronze, the interior was all silk shadows and cool marble, every surface rich with texture and weight. The long table was intimate, polished obsidian inlaid with silver constellations. The only light came from low-hanging lanterns.

Dinner was a private affair. Just the three of them.

Which somehow made it worse.

Lucas was seated beside Trevor, across from Dax, who looked far too comfortable in his own palace, lounging in robes lined with deep violet and gold trim, sipping something chilled and faintly blue.

The food was a sensory overload.

First came bowls of chilled pomegranate soup with crushed mint and rosewater—refreshing and unexpectedly sharp. Then came a cascade of shared platters: grilled lamb with smoked date glaze, saffron rice jeweled with dried fruits and pistachios, rolls of roasted eggplant stuffed with spiced cheese, and delicate slivers of fish dusted with citrus ash and wrapped in palm leaves.

It was the kind of meal that dared you not to enjoy it.

Lucas, to his own mild surprise, did. He hated lamb and was trying to hide it.

Trevor, seated close but perfectly upright, was more focused on watching Dax than the food. His wine sat untouched. His posture was court-perfect. Controlled.

Lucas leaned slightly toward him. "If you keep glaring at him like that, the wine’s going to sour."

"I don’t glare," Trevor said, without looking away. View the correct content at NovelFire

"You smolder, then."

Across the table, Dax hummed as he picked up a piece of honey-glazed flatbread and gestured vaguely with it. "You know," he said, "for all your growling and death stares, you’ve turned into a rather charming husband. Congratulations, Trevor."

Trevor’s smile was paper-thin. "You’re confusing charm with tolerance."

"Oh, I’m very good at that," Dax replied, eyes flicking to Lucas again. "Ask anyone I’ve ever dated."

Lucas took a long sip of his drink—something tart, icy, and threaded with basil. "I now see why there are so many rumors about the two of you being a couple."

Trevor groaned.

Dax lit up like someone had just handed him the keys to a very well-stocked armory.

"Oh, those were your favorite, weren’t they?" he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "The ’tragic estranged lovers turned bitter political rivals’ arc? Or was it the one where Trevor fled to the mountains to mourn me in solitude?"

"I went to the mountains to train soldiers," Trevor snapped, stabbing his fork into a piece of lamb with surgical precision.

"Well, not really; I was just curious to find out why the rumors started. Trevor isn’t one to give people ideas. I should know."

"You asked me to marry you," Trevor said, smirking.

"Yes. Because you and Serathine made him," he gestured to Dax, "like a demon from hell."

Dax placed his hand over his chest with mock injury. "A demon from hell? Lucas, I’m hurt. I was aiming for enigmatic warlord with a tragic backstory—you’ve reduced me to folklore."

Trevor tilted his head, finally glancing up from his plate with a look of unimpressed self-awareness. "I never claimed to be."

Lucas gave him a pointed stare over the rim of his glass. "You called an entire council subcommittee ’a gathering of damp towels with delusions of authority.’"

"That’s because they were," Trevor replied flatly.

Across the table, Dax was practically glowing with amusement now. "See? And you wonder why the rumors persist. Honestly, watching the two of you is the closest I’ve ever come to believing in soulmates."