Chapter 205: Food and plans [Win-Win]

"No... Let’s meet them."

Arik studied him for one second too long.

Liam lowered the blanket just enough to glare. "Do not look surprised. I am injured, not suicidal. If I send my mother away after Felix poisoned me, she will return with legal documents, Mirelle, and possibly a priest."

"A priest?"

"For burial purposes. Not mine, presumably."

Arik’s mouth twitched.

Liam pointed weakly. "Do not smile. This is a real threat."

"I believe you."

"Good." Liam pushed the blanket aside with the despair of a man preparing for war and dinner at the same time. "But I am not meeting them in bed."

Arik went still. "Liam."

"No. I have been poisoned, kidnapped, emotionally dismantled, historically traumatized, and denied blueprints. I will not also be observed like a tragic decorative invalid."

"You have not eaten in over a day."

"Then I will sit at a table and eat like a person with rights."

Arik looked at the monitoring ward on Liam’s chest.

The ward pulsed blue.

Liam glared at it. "You do not get a vote."

"It has medical authority," Arik said.

"It has opinions."

"It is currently the only one in this room making sense."

Liam opened his mouth.

Arik added, softer, "You can meet them at the table. But I help you walk."

Liam’s face tightened at the word help.

Arik did not move closer. He waited, careful and infuriating, giving Liam room to accept something he did not want to need.

After a moment, Liam muttered, "Fine. But no lifting."

"No lifting."

"And no hovering."

Arik’s expression did not change.

Liam narrowed his eyes. "That pause was insulting."

"I am adjusting my definition of hovering."

"Adjust harder."

Arik helped him stand. One hand at his back, one offered for balance, while moving like Liam, weighted almost nothing.

The private dining room attached to Arik’s suite was smaller than the formal rooms but still ridiculous by any reasonable standard: polished dark table, soft lighting, wide windows looking toward Alexandria, and enough wards tucked into the walls to make the air feel alert.

Enia was already there.

She stood when Liam entered, her face composed until her eyes reached him. Then the composure cracked very subtly, but Liam saw it because he had been raised by that face and knew every place it hid fear.

"My baby," she said softly.

Liam closed his eyes. "Mother."

She crossed the distance and cupped his face before he could object. Her hands were warm and shaking faintly.

For one breath, Liam forgot to be embarrassed.

Then Mirelle stepped forward behind her, elegant, pale with anger, and said, "You look terrible."

Liam opened one eye. "I missed you too."

Henry came last, placing a covered dish on the table with the calm of a man who had decided food was the only sane response to a collapsing kingdom. "Sit before the doctors enter and sedate everyone."

Liam looked at him. "You brought food."

"I brought food that was not prescribed in a threatening tone."

"You are my favorite."

Enia made an offended sound.

Henry smiled faintly. "Eat first. Choose favorites later."

Arik guided Liam into a chair without making it look like guiding. That, unfortunately, meant everyone noticed.

Mirelle looked at him.

Arik inclined his head. "Lady Mirelle."

"Your Highness."

Her tone was polite enough to cut silk.

Enia sat beside Liam. Henry placed a bowl before him. Mirelle took the chair opposite, eyes moving between Liam’s face, his hands, the ward at his chest, and Arik’s careful distance.

"You have not eaten," Enia said.

"I drank tea."

"That is not food."

"It had bark in it."

"That makes it medicine, not food."

Arik sat only after Liam gave the smallest tug at his sleeve. He did not comment on it.

Liam picked up the spoon mostly to stop them all from looking at him like that. He took one bite.

Then stopped.

The warmth hit his empty stomach with such force that his body seemed to remember, all at once, that it had been running on poison, panic, sleep, and royal drama for far too long.

He was hungry. Starving even.

Henry saw the realization first and quietly pushed bread closer.

Liam stared at it.

Then took it.

Arik’s hand flexed once on the table, as if resisting the urge to feed him personally.

Liam shot him a warning look while chewing.

Arik looked away.

Mirelle’s mouth twitched.

Enia’s eyes softened so painfully that Liam looked down into the bowl and focused on survival through soup.

Only after he had eaten enough for the ward to pulse a less judgmental blue did Enia speak again.

"Felix poisoned you."

The spoon paused.

The room changed.

"Yes," Liam said.

Enia’s expression did not move, but something colder entered her eyes. "Marin says you will recover."

"Marin says many things in the voice of a military tribunal."

"Will you recover?"

Liam glanced at Arik.

Arik did not answer for him.

"Yes," Liam said. "Slowly."

Mirelle’s fingers tightened around her glass. "Then slowly is what we will allow. Felix does not get the satisfaction of rushing you into collapse."

Henry nodded. "Or hiding you so completely that people think he succeeded."

Liam looked at him.

The reason they had come was not only to touch his face and inspect his breathing, but also to put a country back into place around his plate.

Enia took a careful breath. "We spoke with Gabriel."

"I heard."

"He is terrifying."

"I also heard that."

"I like him."

"That was inevitable and unfortunate."

Mirelle leaned back. "The engagement should go on."

Liam closed his eyes. "At least let the soup reach my stomach before turning me into a national symbol."

"You are not a symbol," Enia said. "You are my son. That is why I am saying this now, before the court says it for us."

Liam opened his eyes.

Henry’s voice was gentle but firm. "George’s death will not make people grieve. It will make them uncertain. Civilians hated him, Liam. They hated the taxes, the courts, the favors, the men who carried his name into their businesses and homes. His funeral will be small because he deserves nothing larger."

"An insignificant funeral," Mirelle said. "The best punishment for a man who wanted history to kneel."

Enia nodded. "But relief can turn into panic if no one sees what comes next."

"Rex," Liam said.

"Yes," Henry replied. "Rex."

Mirelle’s expression sharpened into that of the head of the Armstrong family, not merely Liam’s aunt. "Armstrong supports Rex openly. I have already moved our people."

"And Ravenwood," Henry added. "I have done the same."

Enia rested her hand near Liam’s, not touching until he allowed it. "If Arik marries into both lines, if Agaron stands visibly with Ravenwood and Armstrong while we stand with Rex, then Wrohan sees continuity and hope for a better future."

Arik’s voice came low. "Only if Liam wants it."

Mirelle looked at him with cool approval. "Good answer."

"It was not an answer. It was the condition."

Enia studied Arik for a long moment. "Better."

Liam sighed. "Everyone stop approving of each other. It makes me nervous."

Henry pushed another piece of bread toward him. "Eat through the anxiety."

"That is not medical advice."

"It is stepfather advice."

Liam took the bread.

Arik’s gaze softened.

Liam noticed and looked away before it could become dangerous.

"The engagement is not cancelled because George died," Liam said finally.

Arik went still beside him.

"You can continue with the old preparations," He said and returned to what interested him now. The food.

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