The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

Enia Ravenwood read George’s message three times.

Not because the words were difficult.

Because she wanted to give the universe three separate chances to correct itself.

It did not.

The message remained there, glowing on the surface of the ether-glass tablet with all the smug, polished absurdity of a royal communication drafted by men who thought formatting could make coercion respectable.

By order of His Majesty King George of Wrohan, with the blessing of the throne and in recognition of the strengthening bond between Wrohan and Agaron, Lord Liam Sienna Canmore is formally announced as the betrothed of His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Arik Oberon Lyon of Agaron.

Across from her, Henry Ravenwood sat very still in the receiving room, one hand resting on the arm of his chair, the other holding a glass he had not raised in ten minutes. Henry was not a man easily startled. He had married into Armstrong fire, survived Ravenwood politics, and helped raise Liam into the kind of person who could make three senior engineers resign by asking one clarifying question.

But even Henry looked as if he were considering whether arson had legal precedent.

"This is not an announcement," Enia said.

Her voice was calm.

That was how Henry knew the situation had become dangerous.

"No," he agreed.

"It is a leash with royal stationery."

"Yes."

"George has lost what little remained of his mind."

"Also yes."

Enia lowered the tablet.

Her face was pale, but her eyes were not. Her eyes were Armstrong red, clear, and furious and so cold that the room seemed to lose several degrees around her.

"Liam did not return to the manor," she said.

Henry’s jaw tightened. "No."

"He is not at the lab."

"No."

"His assistant says he left after the Sun Room meeting and did not return."

Henry set the untouched glass down. "Mara sounded worried."

"Mara is intelligent enough to be worried."

Enia stood.

The movement was sharp, elegant, and deeply unpleasant for anyone who had ever mistaken her for merely decorative.

"George does not care where Liam is," she said. "He cares that the scandal with Ray is contained, that Felix does not take his head today, and that Agaron signs whatever agreement he thinks will save his rotting throne. If Liam has to be tied to a foreign crown prince to make that happen, George would send the announcement before checking whether Liam was alive."

Henry’s expression darkened. "Enia."

"No. Do not soften it." Her fingers tightened around the tablet. "My son has been used as a bargaining chip by Canmore since he was old enough to understand a locked door. George is not clever enough to make a new pattern."

"The Agaron prince may not have forced it."

Enia looked at him.

Henry lifted one hand slightly. "I am not defending him."

"Wise."

"I am saying Liam would have fought if cornered."

"He did fight." Enia’s voice cut cleanly. "That is what worries me."

Henry went quiet.

Because that was the truth between them.

Liam was capable. Brilliant. Difficult to trap. Difficult to frighten. Nearly impossible to move against his will without leaving blood, paperwork, or severe structural damage behind.

But if he had fought and still vanished for an entire night, then something had gone wrong enough for even Enia to feel the first cold edge of fear.

Her fingers moved over the tablet.

Henry watched her. "You’re calling him?"

"I am calling my son before I call the palace and make George remember why the Armstrong family used to be banned from three provinces."

The call rang twice.

Then connected.

For one half second, Enia saw nothing but a blur of dark fabric, pale morning light, and what looked suspiciously like a pillow.

Then Liam’s face appeared.

Messy brown hair. Tired eyes. Flushed skin and very much alive.

Enia’s breath stopped in her throat.

Behind him, a very familiar golden-eyed crown prince of Agaron was visible against the pillows, hair disheveled, expression far too amused for a man whose political survival had just become breakfast entertainment.

Liam stared at the screen.

Then at Arik.

Then back at the screen.

"Mother," he said, with the brittle calm of a man realizing his death might arrive through family affection.

Enia blinked once.

Slowly.

"Liam."

"I can explain."

"I sincerely doubt that."

Arik, because he apparently valued neither peace nor his own life, leaned slightly into view and said, "Good morning, Lady Ravenwood."

Liam turned and shoved his face away with one hand.

"Do not help."

Arik laughed.

Enia’s eyes narrowed.

Henry, behind her, made a sound that suggested his soul had briefly left his body to review legal options.

Liam closed his eyes. "I am alive."

"That was not the question I was about to ask."

"I know."

"Are you injured?"

"No."

"Are you ill?"

Liam hesitated.

Enia’s expression sharpened instantly.

"Liam."

"The suppressant reaction was unpleasant," he admitted. "It’s handled."

Henry stood at once. "Suppressant reaction?"

"I’m fine."

"No one who says that in your tone is fine," Enia said.

Liam looked deeply offended. "My tone is normal."

"Your tone is the one you use when you’ve done something medically reckless and expect admiration for not dying."

Arik’s shoulders shook silently behind him.

Liam pointed at him without looking. "Stop laughing."

"I am not laughing."

"You are absolutely laughing."

Enia inhaled slowly through her nose.

"Why," she asked, each word very precise, "are you in bed with the Crown Prince of Agaron?"

Silence.

Liam looked at the screen.

Then, with the expression of a man stepping willingly into a guillotine, he said, "Pheromone management."

Henry sat back down.

Arik lost the battle and laughed out loud.

Liam smacked him with the pillow again.

"Not helping!"

Enia stared at her son.

Then at Arik.

Then the dark cotton pajama collar was visible beneath Liam’s throat.

Her eyes narrowed further.

"Those are not your clothes."

Liam’s face went blank.

Arik, still smiling, said nothing. Wise. For once.

Liam slowly pulled the blanket higher. "That is not relevant."

"It became relevant when you tried to hide it."

"Mother."

"Liam."

"I was cold."

"In summer."

"It was a medical situation."

"You are wearing his pajamas."

"I am beginning to regret answering this call."

"You should have regretted many things earlier."

Arik’s laughter softened into something warm near Liam’s shoulder, and Liam’s ears went faintly red.

Enia saw it, but her fury did not vanish, only changed the target of it.

"Did George force this announcement?" she asked.

Liam’s embarrassment snapped into anger so quickly Henry straightened again.

"Yes," Liam said. "Without asking me. Without asking Arik. Without checking whether I was conscious, alive, or inclined to become engaged before breakfast."

"Remain where you are. I’m coming there," Enia said and closed the call.

Silence settled over the suite for exactly three seconds before Liam slowly lowered the comm and looked at Arik with the expression of a man realizing a natural disaster had just changed direction toward his location.

Arik leaned back against the pillows, visibly delighted. "Your mother is terrifying. I understand you much better now."