The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

Arik decided, with absolute clarity, that he had made a mistake.

Not in choosing Liam.

That remained the most correct decision he had made in years, even if Liam was currently looking at him like a man calculating how much of a private residence could be converted into a laboratory before the Crown Prince noticed.

No, the mistake had been activating the call while Gabriel was in this mood, and Damian had chosen observation over paternal rescue.

"You are all against me," Arik said.

Gabriel’s eyes softened with false sympathy. "Darling, we are merely supporting Liam’s adjustment.

"You just told him part of my palace has acceptable blast distance."

"Small blast distance."

"That correction does not help."

"It does to an engineer," Liam said.

Arik turned to him.

Liam looked back with perfect seriousness, which made the betrayal worse.

For a moment, Gabriel looked so pleased that Liam wondered if he should feel guilty. He did not. He had entered this call expecting to be politely dissected by the imperial family of Agaron and had instead been given valuable information regarding windows, courtyards, and possible functional space.

He considered that progress.

Damian, perhaps sensing that Arik was one sentence away from ending the call by force, set his cup down. "How is Wrohan treating you, Liam?"

The question was calm enough to be harmless.

It was not harmless.

Nothing from Damian Lyon was harmless. Even weather questions, Liam had begun to suspect, could be turned into geopolitical doctrine with the correct pause.

Still, the emperor’s tone held no pressure. Only interest.

Liam considered lying out of habit, then decided that lying to Arik’s parents would be pointless, exhausting, and probably insulting to everyone involved.

"Complicatedly," he said.

Gabriel smiled. "That is a good diplomatic answer."

Liam’s shoulders eased by another fraction.

Arik noticed, of course. His hand was still under the table, thumb resting lightly near Liam’s knuckles.

"The palace is tolerable," Liam continued. "The food is better than expected. The staff are very careful, which is either reassuring or concerning. I have not decided. My family has turned an engagement reception into a military operation with flowers. Felix accepted the invitation. George offered the hall, which means the situation is worse than it looks. And Arik has forbidden me from joining the infiltration of the Canmore residence next week."

Gabriel blinked once.

Then slowly looked at Arik.

Damian also looked at Arik.

Arik’s expression did not change.

"You forbade him?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes."

Liam lifted his chin. "He said no in a tone."

"A tone," Gabriel repeated, delighted.

"A low, imperial, unreasonable tone."

Damian looked at Liam. "You wished to join the infiltration?"

"I know the residence."

"He is the center of the reception," Arik said. "The main couple cannot vanish into a heist."

Liam frowned. "You keep saying that as if the problem is lack of cover rather than lack of creativity."

Gabriel laughed.

Damian looked briefly toward the ceiling, as if asking something ancient and divine for patience.

Arik’s mouth flattened. "Do not encourage him."

"I am not," Gabriel said, clearly encouraging him.

Liam turned back to the projection. "For the record, I accepted the logic. Under protest."

"Good," Damian said. "Protest keeps dangerous decisions honest."

Liam paused.

That was... unfortunately reasonable.

Arik made a small sound beside him, which Liam interpreted as satisfaction.

He ignored it.

The conversation settled after that into something almost normal, or as normal as a discussion could be when two imperial rulers, one crown prince, and one deeply unwilling engineer were discussing a reception that was also a trap, a palace section that was not yet a laboratory, and the diplomatic consequences of Arik leaving Wrohan once the treaty and Felix’s web had been properly broken.

Gabriel asked about Lab V with visible restraint, which Liam appreciated in the way one appreciated a predator staying behind a line drawn in chalk.

Damian asked about the Vanguard only once, and only in technical terms.

Arik watched Liam answer with the faint warmth of a man who enjoyed hearing his mate speak about machinery as if describing a living creature, which Liam noticed and chose not to address because he had already suffered enough emotional exposure for one evening.

Then, when the conversation had become almost comfortable, Arik made the mistake of trying to redirect it.

"How is Cecil?" he asked.

Gabriel went still.

Liam saw it as Arik’s hand tightened slightly around his, and Damian’s mouth curved with the faintest shadow of resignation.

’Ah,’ Liam thought. ’This is a dangerous question.’

Gabriel’s smile returned slowly.

Arik’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Nothing," Gabriel said.

"That is not nothing."

"Cecil is well."

Damian lifted his tea. "Very well."

Arik turned his head slightly toward his father. "Why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like there is a report attached."

Gabriel sighed with the deep satisfaction of a man who had been waiting to open a beautifully wrapped disaster. "Cecil wants his wedding first."

Arik stared at him.

Liam blinked. "First?"

Gabriel nodded. "Before yours."

"There is no wedding scheduled," Arik said.

"There is an engagement reception," Gabriel replied. "Cecil considers that enough warning."

"That is not how scheduling works."

"Cecil disagrees."

Damian added, "Strongly."

Liam looked between them, then at Arik. "Cecil is your brother?"

"My younger brother," Arik said, with the particular exhaustion of an elder sibling who already knew the battlefield and hated the terrain.

Gabriel’s smile widened. "He argues that he marked Frederik first."

Arik closed his eyes.

Liam, against his better judgment, became interested.

"He did?"

"Yes," Gabriel said. "Very proudly. Repeatedly. He has said that if Arik wanted the first imperial wedding, he should have been more organized."

Liam made a sound.

Arik turned his head toward him, gold eyes filled with warning. Liam chose to not say anything, but a smile still broke through.

Gabriel looked delighted enough to be dangerous. "Cecil also said Arik has always been dramatic and should not be rewarded for making his situation more complicated across international borders."

Liam looked at Arik.

Arik’s expression had gone very still.

This time, Liam did laugh.

Arik’s gaze sharpened. "Liam."

"I am sorry," Liam said, not sounding sorry enough. "But your brother has structure to his argument."

Gabriel pressed a hand lightly to his chest. "I knew I liked him."

Damian’s mouth moved behind his cup.

Arik looked at both of his parents with deep betrayal. "You are enjoying this."

"Yes," Gabriel said.

Damian took a sip of tea and did not deny it.

Liam felt something in his chest loosen again, the nervousness giving way to warm familiarity. The Lyons were terrifying, yes. Gorgeous to an offensive degree, also yes. But they were also a family that apparently discussed wedding precedence with the same calm used for war strategy and palace renovation disputes.

It was absurd.

It was easier to breathe inside absurdity than judgment.

"Is Cecil serious?" Liam asked.

"Very," Gabriel said. "He has already prepared three possible schedules."

Liam’s interest sharpened. "Three?"

Arik gave him a warning look.

Liam ignored it. "Are they comparative schedules or separate scenarios?"

Gabriel’s eyes lit. "Separate scenarios. One depends on Frederik’s family accepting the spring date. One depends on summer ceremonial availability. The third is spite-based."

"The third is not viable," Damian said.

"That means it is the most interesting," Liam said before he could stop himself.

Arik looked at him. "You are supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side."

"You are analyzing Cecil’s wedding plans."

"I can be on your side and respect a well-organized argument."

Gabriel laughed, and this time the sound was warm enough that Liam felt the last of the sharp fear behind his ribs unclench.

Damian’s gaze settled on him for a moment, quieter now.

Liam realized, belatedly, that they had done this on purpose.

Not the Cecil nonsense, probably. That seemed painfully real.

But the casual talk. The palace teasing. The laboratory argument. The wedding complaint. They were not pushing him toward loyalty or approval. They were letting him see the family before the empire, the people before the titles, the absurdity before the danger.

They were trying not to scare him.

That almost scared him more.

Gabriel’s expression softened as if he knew exactly where Liam’s thoughts had gone.

"Cecil marrying first changes nothing," Gabriel said.

Arik’s hand went still over Liam’s.

Damian added, "But people will talk."

"People always talk," Arik said.

"Yes," Gabriel replied. "And sometimes they aim."

Liam understood then.

The humor was real, but so was the warning.

Cecil’s wedding, first, would give court voices something to chew. Arik, the crown prince, bonded abruptly in Wrohan with a mate from a complicated foreign family, while his younger brother, neatly marked and engaged, moved into the ceremony first. People would compare. They would interpret. They would look for insult where there was only scheduling and family chaos.

Liam exhaled slowly.

"I do not care," he said.

Arik looked at him.

Liam met his gaze. "I am currently surviving Felix, Gate plans, floral bait, and the possibility of your mother helping me design a blast-resistant workroom. Wedding order is not high on my threat list."

Gabriel looked deeply pleased. "Blast-resistant workroom."

"No," Arik said immediately.

Damian’s mouth curved. "That will be quoted."

Liam sighed. "I regret speaking."

"No, you do not," Gabriel said.

Unfortunately, he was right.