Liam was seriously considering fleeing to another country.
’Will Gabriel offer political asylum?’ Liam wondered while reading the family chat group with increasing worry for his ntal health.
It was not that Liam lacked courage.
He had survived the Vanguard’s first unstable compression cycle, three Canmore succession dinners, two attempts by Felix to "ntor" him in public, and one conversation with his mother about why he had disappeared for five days and returned with a royal alpha attached to his life like a military-grade bond seal.
He was a brave man.
A practical man.
A man who knew when a structure had exceeded its tolerance limit and should be evacuated before the whole thing collapsed over everyone’s heads.
The structure in question was his family.
The collapse was happening in real ti.
The family group chat had been active for forty-seven minutes, and Liam had already counted twelve decisions being made without him, four ntions of "presentation," six uses of the phrase "controlled visibility," and one ssage from Aunt Mirelle asking whether Agaronian blue would be too direct a political statent if used as the dominant color in the reception flowers.
Liam stared at the screen.
Liam: Why are there reception flowers?
Mirelle: Because this is a reception.
Liam: This is bait.
Mirelle: Bait can have flowers.
Enia: Mirelle.
Mirelle: Elegant bait can have flowers.
Henry: Please stop calling it bait in writing.
Liam pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose.
He had done this to himself.
’It’s my fault for accepting this...’ He thought while letting his head fall back on the headrest, his eyes closed, and his hair falling back.
"Is that bad?" Arik’s voice appeared out of nowhere.
Liam flinched and opened his eyes only to find his dear mate bent over him, dark hair falling loosely over his forehead, gold eyes amused in a way that made Liam imdiately suspicious of the Empire, fate, and his own taste in n.
"You," Liam said, voice flat, "need a bell."
Arik’s brow lifted. "A bell?"
"Or a warning system. A diplomatic announcent. A small parade. Anything that prevents you from materializing behind people like a royal assassination attempt."
"I walked."
"You walked silently."
"I am trained."
"That is not a defense. That is an aggravating circumstance."
Arik’s mouth curved, and because Liam was still leaning back against the chair with his head tilted up, Arik had the unfair advantage of looking down at him from very close range.
Close enough that Liam could sll the clean trace of soap under Arik’s warm stone scent. Close enough that the bond, treacherous thing that it was, imdiately forgot the political disaster on Liam’s tablet and began humming like a satisfied machine.
Liam narrowed his eyes. "Weren’t you going to be busy with etings today?"
Arik laughed softly. "Yes, I am very busy, but I got a break to see you." He placed a hand on his chest in theatrical elegance. "I needed energy to get through the rest of the day."
Liam stared at him.
Then at the hand Arik had placed over his own chest like so wounded court beauty about to faint from the tragedy of being denied attention.
"You needed energy," Liam repeated.
"Yes."
"And the source of this energy is apparently bothering while my family turns a reception into a weaponized floral ambush."
Arik’s smile did not waver. "You are very restorative."
"I am not restorative. I am currently hostile."
"That has never been a deterrent."
"It should be."
"It is not."
Liam narrowed his eyes harder, mostly because Arik remained bent over him, beautiful, amused, and entirely too close for a man who was supposed to be handling high-level negotiations instead of appearing in private sitting rooms to recharge himself through emotional vandalism.
"Please, just let suffer in peace." Liam said in the end.
"No." Arik bent closer and placed a soft kiss on Liam’s forehead. "Gabriel wants to et you as soon as possible... aning he set a eting for tonight."
Liam went very still.
Arik remained close, mouth still near his skin, entirely too calm for a man who had just delivered a threat as a family update.
"No," Liam said.
Arik’s lips curved against his forehead before he drew back. "That seems to be your favorite word today."
"It is a good word. Efficient. Clear. Frequently ignored by people who claim to love ."
"My mother is not ignoring you."
"He scheduled a eting with without asking."
"That is how Gabriel expresses interest."
"That is how invading armies express interest."
Arik laughed softly and finally straightened, though he did not move away. His hand remained on the back of Liam’s chair, caging him in with the infuriating casualness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing and had no moral intention of stopping.
Liam stared up at him. "Tonight."
"Yes."
"After I have spent the morning being assaulted by floral bait, Felix’s RSVP, and the possibility of formalwear."
"You will survive," Arik said, entirely unbothered. "There is no need to delay eting my parents anymore. And I intend to use the engagent reception next week to search for the Gate plans at the Canmore residence."
Liam straightened so fast the tablet nearly slid from his lap.
"I want to go."
"No," Arik said, low and stern.
Liam stared at him. "I know that residence better than anyone you could send."
"I know."
"I know the restricted corridors, the private archives, the sealed foundation levels..."
"I know," Arik repeated. "That is why you will give zos the layout. The Shadows will infiltrate while the reception keeps Felix, Cain, Ray, and every interested Canmore in one place."
"With as decoration?"
"With you beside ," Arik corrected. "All night. It would be very odd for the main couple to disappear into a heist, don’t you think?"
"I can disappear efficiently."
"That is exactly why you are not going."
Liam narrowed his eyes. "You are ordering ."
"Yes."
"That is dangerous."
"So is Felix noticing your absence."
Liam opened his mouth, then closed it because Arik was, infuriatingly, right.
Arik leaned closer, voice softer but no less firm. "Give the layout. Stay beside . et my parents tonight. Survive the flowers."
"That is a terrible list."
"It is a survivable one."
Liam glared at him, then reached for the tablet with the grim dignity of a man being forced into espionage through paperwork.
"If Gabriel offers a departnt," he muttered, "I am blaming you."
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