The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

"Liam Sienna Canmore, who did this?" she asked again, her tone icy.

Liam hated the full name.

Not because of the name itself. Sienna had been his mother’s victory, not Felix’s, no matter how much the old monster had tried to make every syllable sound like something he owned. But Enia only used all three names when the world had offended her so deeply that language required structure before violence followed.

Henry’s hand settled more firmly at her waist.

Mirelle, beside them, opened her eyes and looked faintly betrayed by the fact that divine intervention had apparently declined the assignment.

Liam considered, very briefly, lying.

It was not a serious consideration. More of a decorative thought. A final salute to the version of himself that still believed certain disasters could be delayed by silence.

Then he looked at his mother’s face.

At the red eyes that matched his own, bright and too still beneath the ether light.

"Felix," he said.

The word landed softly. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The reaction did not.

Enia moved.

Henry caught her before the second step.

It was impressive, really. Liam had grown up watching Henry manage Enia’s storms with the careful expertise of a man who loved her too much to let her commit crimes without a plan. His arm slid around her waist, firm enough to stop momentum, gentle enough not to insult her by treating her like someone who could be contained without consent.

"Not here," Henry murmured.

Enia’s gaze did not leave the far side of the room.

Felix stood near the ministerial cluster, pale and composed beneath the ether-light, his cane angled neatly before him, every inch the saint Wrohan adored because Wrohan had always preferred its monsters useful and well-dressed.

He was watching.

Liam felt the look before he met it.

A cool, poisonous thread drawn across the room.

Enia felt it too.

Her body went even more rigid in Henry’s hold.

"Let me go," she said.

"No," Henry replied, still soft.

Mirelle took a slow sip of wine. "I support Henry’s position for the next thirty seconds."

Enia’s head turned by a fraction. "Mirelle."

"I said thirty seconds. I am not made of stone."

Liam almost laughed.

It would have hurt, so he didn’t.

Around them, the Armstrongs had already shifted.

No command was given. None was needed. One cousin moved half a step outward, blocking the view from a pair of young nobles trying very hard not to stare. An uncle angled himself between Liam and the Canmore side of the room with the casual grace of a man who had apparently been waiting for an excuse to become architecture. Another aunt, dressed in burgundy so deep it looked nearly black, lifted her fan and began speaking to a minister’s wife with a smile that kept the woman from drifting closer.

Liam reached for his mother’s hand.

"Mother, don’t," he said quietly. "The Canmores can’t wait to find a reason to get rid of me. You know the old man has had a grudge since I refused to marry Rex."

Enia’s fingers closed around his at once.

"That," she said, her voice dangerously soft, "was not a marriage proposal. That was filth wrapped in protocol."

Henry’s hand remained at her waist, though now it looked less like restraint and more like a promise that if she moved, he would move with her.

Mirelle’s fan stilled.

For one brief second, the family circle around Liam sharpened into something far older than court etiquette.

"That proposal should never have crossed a table," Mirelle said. "Felix knew what Rex was to Ray. He knew what Liam was to Ray. He pushed it anyway because he wanted the throne and Canmore blood folded into one obedient knot."

"Rex refused," Liam said.

"So did you," Enia replied at once.

"And Felix never forgave either of us," Liam said simply. His fingers tightened around hers before he could stop himself. "Not today, Mother. I don’t forget. I’m not asking you to forget either. But with Agaron’s political delegation here, the puppet king would use the moment to make our family look bad again." His gaze flicked once toward George, who was still smiling beneath too much gold and too little dignity. "Don’t give them that."

Enia went very still.

It was not an agreement yet.

Henry’s hand remained at her waist. Mirelle, on Liam’s other side, stopped moving her fan.

For a heartbeat, Liam wondered if he had miscalculated.

Then Enia looked at him.

"You think I care how George makes us look?"

"No," Liam said. "That’s the problem."

Mirelle’s mouth twitched.

Henry made a very soft sound that might have been a warning and might have been admiration. With Henry, it was difficult to tell. He had married Enia, after all. The man’s instincts were clearly brave and questionable.

Enia’s eyes narrowed.

Liam pushed on before courage became an endangered resource.

"I know you don’t care. Mirelle cares in a strategic way. Henry cares because someone has to care about prison logistics. But you?" His voice softened despite himself. "You would walk across this hall and tear him apart if it meant proving to me that what he did mattered."

"It does matter," Enia said, her words resonating at a frequency that made the nearby champagne flutes hum in their racks. "It matters that he thinks he can mark you like a failed prototype and walk away with his saint’s smile intact."

"It matters," Liam agreed, his voice steadying. "Which is why I’m not going to let him win by making you the villain of the evening. Felix wants a scene, Mother. He wants the Armstrongs to look like the unstable element so he can justify ’securing’ the lab and me under a more disciplined hand."

He glanced back at the conservatory arch. Felix hadn’t looked away. He was sipping from a crystal glass, his pale violet eyes tracking the tension in Enia’s shoulders with the detached satisfaction of a man watching a fuse burn toward a predictable end.

"He’s waiting for the explosion," Liam whispered. "Don’t give him the satisfaction."

Enia’s shoulders eased and she straightened. "Fine, but only for today. I’m making sure he pays for this."