Chapter 206: A Kiss in a Nightmare [Win-Win]

A week later, Wrohan had improved from catastrophe to organized catastrophe, which Arik supposed counted as progress if one was generous, sleep-deprived, and politically desperate.

Felix was still missing.

Cain was still missing.

Ray was still useless.

Rex had stopped threatening to burn the treasury only because Mezos had informed him that fire would not improve the numbers, though it might improve morale for three minutes before creating twelve new administrative disasters.

Liam, however, was eating.

That, in Arik’s private and entirely biased opinion, was the greatest political improvement of the week.

He sat across from Arik at the small dining table in the private suite, wearing dark trousers, a soft green shirt, and the faintly offended expression of a man who had been made to rest properly for several days and considered recovery a personal insult. His color had improved. The shadows under his eyes had faded. The medical ward at his collarbone no longer pulsed every time he moved, which Marin had called encouraging and Liam had called "finally learning manners."

He had been rested.

Fed.

Medicated.

Occasionally permitted to walk in the garden under supervision, which Liam had described as "being aired out like a consumptive noble lady in an old novel."

Marin had heard that and said, without looking up from his notes, "Good. Then act fragile with dignity."

Liam had not forgiven him.

Arik had nearly smiled, and that only because he valued his life.

The garden strolls had become a ritual of humiliation in Liam’s mind and a source of unreasonable satisfaction in Arik’s. Liam would walk along the shaded path beside the south fountain, wrapped in a light coat because Enia had declared that recovering sons did not get to negotiate with wind, while Stanford and two Shadows lingered at a distance and pretended not to watch him breathe.

Arik walked with him when allowed.

Liam had made that clear.

"You are not turning my rehabilitation into a royal courtship procession," he had said on the second day.

Arik had looked at the path, the guards, the physician’s assistant hiding near the roses, and Liam’s aunt, Mirelle, observing from a bench with the expression of a general inspecting troop discipline.

"It may already be one," Arik had replied with an innocent smile.

Liam had glared.

Then taken his arm anyway when the path tilted slightly beneath his feet.

That had been a victory.

The kiss had been another.

Given three mornings ago after Liam had woken from a long sleep, eaten half a plate of toast without being threatened, reviewed only ten minutes of sanctioned Gate documentation, and then looked at Arik with the exhausted irritation of a man who had run out of reasons to deny himself one mercy.

"You are still not forgiven," Liam had said.

"I know."

"This is not a reward."

"Of course."

"And if you look pleased, I will stop."

Arik had not looked pleased.

He had looked at Liam as if the world had finally offered one point of evidence that it did not intend to be entirely cruel.

Liam had muttered, "Terrible. Unfair. Come here."

Arik had gone.

The kiss had lasted only a few seconds.

It had still carried him through three interrogations, five economic reports, Rex’s eighth near-collapse over George’s hidden debts, and one message from Gabriel that said, I assume you have either been kissed or murdered because your silence has changed texture.

Arik had not answered that.

He was not suicidal.

Across the table, Liam reached for another piece of bread.

Arik watched him do it with the quiet intensity of a man witnessing state restoration.

Liam paused, bread halfway to his mouth. "Do not look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I am a successful harvest."

Arik’s mouth moved.

Liam narrowed his eyes. "Do not smile."

"I am not."

"You are smiling internally."

"Only with restraint."

The door seal chimed before Liam could continue judging him.

Mezos appeared on the projection a moment later, looking like he had slept less than any living person should and become sharper out of spite.

"Your Highness," he said. "Lord Liam."

Liam looked at him suspiciously. "If this is about Marin reducing my document review again, I will become unpleasant."

"You are already unpleasant," Mezos said. "This is about Felix’s men."

Arik’s expression changed.

Liam set the bread down.

"Eat," Arik said.

Liam looked at him. "Do not start."

"Eat while listening."

"That is a reasonable suggestion and therefore manipulative."

"Correct."

Liam picked up the bread again with an expression of deep resentment.

Mezos watched this with faint interest. "Recovery appears to be progressing."

"Do not report that to Marin," Liam said, adding an ungodly amount of butter on the toast.

"I report everything to Marin. It makes him less likely to stab me with medical authority."

Arik leaned back. "What about Felix’s men?"

"They are still not cracking."

"How many?"

"Seven in direct custody. Four auxiliary contacts. Two dead before interrogation, likely by failsafe. The rest know almost nothing."

Liam’s brows drew together. "Almost?"

"They know Felix was working with Cain."

Arik’s fingers stilled against the table.

Behind his ribs, Goliath went quiet.

Mezos continued rolling his eyes. "And that is useless. Of course Felix would work with his own son. The favorite one nonetheless."

Liam stopped chewing.

"No. Felix uses people. He scares them, poisons them, humiliates them, and builds entire emotional shrines around himself if no one stops him, but trust?" Liam’s mouth tightened. "No. If Cain is the one person he works with directly, then Cain is not only the favorite. He is necessary."

Mezos’s expression sharpened.

Arik’s gaze stayed on Liam.

Liam noticed and narrowed his eyes. "Do not look proud. I am eating under protest."

"You are thinking while eating," Arik said. "That is nearly ideal."

"It is not ideal. It is multitasking caused by political incompetence."

Mezos leaned slightly closer through the projection. "The men do not know where Felix is. That part appears genuine. I considered entering their minds directly."

Arik’s eyes cooled.

Liam’s hand froze.

Mezos lifted one brow. "I said considered. I did not say I did it."

"Why not?" Liam asked, though his voice had gone quieter.

"Because the unraveling of one’s mind guarantees their mind breaking forever. Possibly their soul too."

"Great, a new thing to be disturbed about," Liam said, biting a piece of boiled egg.

Arik’s gaze cut to Mezos. "You will not do it unless I order it."

Mezos raised a red brow, his blue eyes filled with amusement.

"And I will not order it for men Felix deliberately kept ignorant."

Mezos inclined his head. "Then Cain remains the target."

Liam swallowed, slower now. "And Felix remains missing."

"For now," Arik said.

Liam looked at him, then at the unfinished toast in his hand, and sighed. "Fine. We find Cain after breakfast."

Arik’s mouth curved.

Liam pointed the toast at him. "Do not look victorious."

Too late.

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