"Do I detect a swagger in your step?" King Luciver drawled, narrowing his eyes as his son approached. There was a bounce to Damien's walk, a slight lift in his shoulders, and—most suspicious of all—a stupid grin plastered across his face.
Damien's eyes were practically dancing, and his lips looked glued in place, stretched wide with uncontainable joy.
"I'm getting married," Damien announced, stopping just short of the throne dais
Luciver stared at him.
Then sighed. Loudly.
"Oh fuck."
Damien blinked, startled. "Oookay… that's not the reaction I was expecting."
"I'm sorry. I am happy for you," Luciver corrected quickly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if warding off a migraine. "You guys finally fixed things—it's good news."
Damien narrowed his eyes. "But?"
There was always a but.
Every silver lining in his life came with a gray cloud in tow.
Luciver gave him a look that said you know how this goes. "The council…"
