"You do not get to say that."

Andrea’s eyes lifted to his.

Arion’s tone did not rise. It did not need to.

"You do not get to stand beside an alpha under strain, refuse to stabilize him, write ’moderate fluctuation’ in a report, and then decide afterward that because he did not collapse, there was no danger. Thomas held because Thomas is strong. That does not absolve you of withholding support."

Andrea’s jaw tightened. "I followed every order."

"Yes. Perfectly. That is what makes this ugly." Arion tapped one finger against the closed folder. "You did not fail by incompetence. You failed by omission."

For a moment, Andrea said nothing.

Then, softly, "You think this is about you."

Arion stared at him.

Andrea’s smile returned, thinner now, more honest in its bitterness. "You do. You think I withdrew from Thomas because I resented you. Because I wore white at your engagement celebration. Because once, long before Dean, I thought I could become something more than a convenient body in your rut cycle."

Arion did not answer.

Andrea leaned back, the elegance returning around the edges like armor being fastened into place.

"You are not entirely wrong," Andrea said.

That admission did more to chill the office than denial would have.

Arion waited.

Andrea’s eyes stayed on him.

"I did resent you. I resented how easily you walked away from something I had been taught to consider the highest opportunity of my life. I resented that Dean arrived and took everything without even seeming to want the machinery of it." His voice softened, but not with tenderness. "He did not have to calculate. He did not have to offer utility. He simply existed badly enough that you changed around him."

Arion’s face did not move.

Inside, something cold and vicious stirred.

Andrea saw it and smiled faintly.

"There he is," Andrea murmured. "The part of you everyone pretends Dean softened."

Arion’s expression did not change.

That was one of the many mistakes Andrea made in the last year. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

He expected anger. He expected visible offense, perhaps even the satisfaction of having touched something raw enough to make the Crown Prince of Alamina react like an ordinary alpha with pride and a mate to defend.

But Arion did not flare.

He did not lean forward.

He did not raise his voice.

He only looked at Andrea with a stillness so complete that the air in the office seemed to lose temperature by degrees.

"Be careful," Arion said softly. "I am still more valuable than you."

Andrea’s smile thinned.

"And Dean," Arion continued, his voice calm enough to become almost conversational, "can neutralize Thomas’s overload."

The silence that followed was no longer elegant.

It was surgical.

"So if you are attempting to remind me that dominant omegas are rare, politically useful, and difficult to discard," Arion said, "you should remember that you are no longer the only answer available."

Andrea’s fingers tightened once against the chair arm.

There.

Arion saw the shift.

For the first time since he entered the office, Andrea understood that this was not a negotiation between former intimates, nor even a warning between nobles of high rank.

This was the Crown Prince deciding how much damage one person was worth.

"Andrea," Arion said, almost gently, "you can be disposable."

The words landed without theatrical cruelty.

That made them worse.

Andrea’s face went utterly still.

"You would replace a dominant omega stabilizer with Dean?" he asked.

"No," Arion replied. "I would replace a failing stabilizer with a functioning strategy."

Andrea’s eyes sharpened. "Dean is your future consort, not a tool."

Arion’s gaze cooled.

"Do not pretend concern for Dean in my office."

Andrea’s mouth closed.

Good.

"Dean is not your shield," Arion said. "He is not a sentimental weakness you can point at to prove I have become kinder. If anything, he has made me more patient, and patience is not mercy. It is the distance between deciding what someone deserves and choosing the most useful moment to deliver it."

Andrea said nothing.

Arion leaned back slightly, his hand resting on the folder again.

"You think Dean softened me because you see him alive, loved, and unafraid to speak to me like I am not the Crown Prince. You mistake that for him changing my nature." His eyes held Andrea’s without blinking. "Dean did not make me harmless. He made me precise."

The office went silent enough that the faint movement beyond the door became audible: a guard shifting position, the whisper of paper from the outer secretary’s desk, the palace continuing beyond this room as if a man’s life was not being quietly rearranged between sentences.

Andrea’s voice came softer when he spoke. "Thomas would not agree to replacing me."

Arion barked a laugh.

It was not amused. It was sharp enough to make Andrea’s composure falter before he could smooth it back into place.

"Thomas does not care about you now the way you think he does," Arion said.

Andrea went very still.

Arion watched that land and did not soften it. There was no reason to. Andrea had mistaken Thomas’s silence for devotion, his restraint for blindness, his refusal to humiliate him in public for stupidity. That was the kind of mistake spoiled people made when they had been loved too gently for too long and thought endurance meant consent.

"Do you think he was blind?" Arion asked. "Do you think his silence while you failed to do the basic duty expected of you was him being stupid?"

Andrea’s eyes sharpened. "Thomas said nothing."

"Yes," Arion said. "Because Thomas still has dignity. Because he will not drag his private humiliation into a military report. Because unlike you, he understands the difference between a battlefield and a stage."

Andrea’s mouth tightened.

Arion leaned forward slightly, the closed folder beneath his palm. "Thomas noticed. He noticed the distance. He noticed you keeping your field sealed around yourself. He noticed every time he reached and found nothing. He simply chose not to force you to acknowledge it while the campaign still needed both of you functional."

"That is convenient," Andrea said quietly.

"No," Arion replied. "It is inconvenient. For you."

For the first time, Andrea’s expression did not recover quickly enough. The crack was small, but it was there, beneath the beauty and the red hair and the old arrogance that had once been able to make rooms turn toward him.

Arion’s voice lowered. "Dean’s ability is already under scientific research. Alamina, Saha, Palatine, and Rohan will all want access to any safe adaptation of his neutralization radius. It will take time, yes. Perhaps years before it can be manipulated into something stable enough to keep dominant alphas from going berserk without a mate."

Andrea’s face cooled. "So Thomas is supposed to wait for an experimental solution?"

"Thomas can wait for someone who deserves him."

The words cut through the room cleanly.

Andrea stared at him.

Arion held his gaze without blinking. "You keep speaking as if Thomas’s only choices are you or collapse. That may have been a useful fantasy before this season. It is no longer true. If you will not stand beside him properly, then we will find other ways to keep him alive until a better match, a better protocol, or a better system exists."

Andrea laughed once, brittle and low. "You make it sound easy."

"I did not say easy. I said possible."

"Dominant omegas are not waiting in lines to stabilize dominant alphas on the edge of berserk."

"No," Arion said. "But Thomas Lancaster is not an unwanted alpha begging for scraps of your attention. He is the future of Rohan’s military structure, a noble with his own country behind him, and one of the few dominant alphas disciplined enough to survive beast seasons without becoming a public disaster. You are not the prize in this arrangement simply because you were born rare."

"You fucker!" Andrea yelled.