The first pale light of morning crept through the edges of the curtains, softening the shadows across the suite. The manor beyond was still, caught in that brief hush before servants stirred and day began in earnest.
Trevor woke quietly, not with a start but with that instinctive pull toward wakefulness honed over years. For a long moment he didn't move, only let his eyes adjust to the soft grey glow.
Beside him, Lucas lay turned slightly toward him, still deep in sleep. The blanket had slipped low on his chest, his robe discarded somewhere in the night, leaving the gentle rise and fall of his breathing visible. Ash‑blond hair spilled in loose strands across the pillow, catching the faint morning light like threads of silver and gold.
Trevor shifted onto an elbow, careful not to disturb him. He let himself look.
