There was a moment of silence with both of them eating, and Liam’s gaze kept being dragged toward the prince more often than he wanted to admit. Arik was elegant, yes, but he ate like a working man. No noble picking at food as if appetite were a scandal. No delicate rearranging of rice. No pretending one survived on court air, expensive wine, and inherited superiority.

He ate with the calm focus of someone who had learned not to waste time when food was available.

That was not what Liam had expected from the Crown Prince of Agaron.

Unfortunately, Liam was beginning to suspect that most of his expectations around Arik existed only to be murdered in public.

Arik tapped his mouth with the napkin after finishing, leaned back into his chair, and reached for his glass of water, golden eyes still on Liam.

"Do you have any more questions?"

Liam stared at him. "You say that as if this is an approved interrogation."

"It has been very productive."

"Do not use George’s word in this room."

Arik’s mouth curved. "My mistake."

Liam took another bite of fish to buy himself time. It was still good. This, too, felt like an insult.

He swallowed. "Your parents."

Arik’s expression changed, the line of his brows and eyes becoming softer.

"What about them?"

"I know who they are," Liam said. "Everyone knows who they are. Emperor Damian Lyon. Empress Gabriel Lyon. Rebuilders of Agaron, golden-eyed imperial bloodline, terrifying royal couple, diplomatic nightmare, national myth, and whatever other nonsense court publications have polished into acceptable history."

Arik looked amused. "That is a concise file."

"It is the public file. I’m asking what they are like in real life."

The question sat between them more heavily than Liam expected.

Arik did not answer immediately, and for once Liam did not press. He watched the prince’s face instead, noting the way his gaze lowered briefly to his water, not to avoid the question, but as if choosing the version of the truth that fit inside a dining room.

"My father," Arik said at last, "is exactly as terrifying as people say."

Liam gave him a flat look. "That is not helpful."

"It is accurate."

"So is saying the sun is hot."

"My father is not hot. He is imperial pressure in human form."

Liam nearly choked on his tea.

Arik’s eyes brightened.

"No," Liam said immediately. "Do not look pleased. That was not funny."

"It was a little funny."

"It was disturbing."

"Also true."

Liam put the cup down with care. "Fine. Terrifying emperor. We have established that."

"He is precise," Arik said. "Controlled. He notices everything. People think his danger is in his power, but that is not true."

Liam stilled.

That, unfortunately, was interesting.

Arik continued, "He can sit in a room and let people destroy themselves with their own assumptions. He does not rush. He does not waste anger. When he speaks, people usually realize too late that he was done listening several minutes earlier."

Liam considered that. "And as a father?"

Arik’s expression softened by a fraction so small Liam almost missed it.

"As a father," Arik said, "he is still terrifying. But he is also patient. Protective. More affectionate than most people would survive knowing."

Liam blinked.

That was not in the public file.

Arik’s mouth curved faintly. "You look surprised."

"I am surprised your father allows anyone to describe him as affectionate."

"He does not."

"And yet you are alive."

"My mother protects us from consequences when we are honest about him."

"Your mother sounds worse."

"He is."

Liam paused. "He?"

"My mother."

Liam stared.

Arik’s smile widened.

"No," Liam said. "Explain that."

"My mother is male."

"I know Empress Gabriel is male," Liam said, irritated. "I am not George. I understand records. I meant... One, why do you call him mother? And two, why did you say worse?"

Arik’s mouth curved faintly, his eyes becoming so warm that something in Liam’s chest started to hurt.

"Because he is my mother."

Liam stared at him. "That is not an explanation. That is you repeating the same sentence as if I failed a basic literacy test."

"He carried me," Arik said.

Liam went still.

The correction that had been building up on his tongue went away, not because the answer made him feel bad, but because it felt different than he had thought it would.

Arik watched him understand.

"In Agaron, the titles are not decided by gender," Arik said. "They are decided by role. My father is my father. My mother is my mother. Gabriel dislikes unnecessary linguistic panic almost as much as he dislikes inefficient governance."

Liam sat back slowly. "Reasonable. Unusual in Wrohan, but reasonable."

"My mother would be gratified by the approval, but if it helps you, his von Jaunez part is still bristling when I call him ’mother’ instead of ’Gabriel.’"

Liam blinked.

He then narrowed his eyes.

"His von Jaunez part?"

Arik’s mouth curved a little more. "Yes."

Liam went very still.

The entire room might as well have vanished.

"Gabriel von Jaunez," Liam said.

Arik was surprised at how quickly the realization hit him. Liam’s eyes changed first, the irritation fading under a cleaner, brighter focus. Whatever resentment Liam’s mind had harbored for Arik had been pushed aside by the far more dangerous machinery of recognizing a name.

Arik disliked that more than was reasonable.

"Yes," he said.

"The Gabriel von Jaunez who worked on the Blue Ether Project?"

Arik leaned back. "Managed it."

"Managed," Liam repeated.

"Yes."

"The Blue Ether Project," Liam said slowly. "Compression trials, early stabilizer protocols, civilian-grid adaptation models..."

Arik’s smile deepened. "All of it."

Liam stared at him.

Then, very carefully, set his cup down as if any sudden movement might insult the dead, the living, or mathematics.

"Your mother," he said, each word controlled, "is the Gabriel von Jaunez."

"He is Gabriel Lyon now."

"I understand marriage, thank you. That is not the point. He managed the design phase..."

"Yes, that is because he became pregnant with me and had to marry Damian." Arik said with a wide grin. "You should thank him; Gabriel was the one telling me to charm you."

Liam froze.

The room froze with him.

Even the ugly ceiling seemed to stop committing visual crimes for one blessed second.

Then Liam turned his head very slowly and looked at Arik with the blank, lethal calm of a man who had just heard four separate catastrophes disguised as one sentence.

"Had to marry Damian," he repeated.

Arik’s grin widened.

Liam lifted one finger. "No. We are putting that aside for now because if I ask about imperial premarital logistics, I will need another pot of tea and possibly legal counsel."

"Reasonable."

"Second." Liam raised another finger. "You interrupted the Blue Ether Project by existing."

"I was unborn."

"And yet disruptive."

"My mother would say the same."

"I am beginning to understand him on a spiritual level."

Arik looked delighted.

Liam narrowed his eyes. "Third. Gabriel von Jaunez told you to charm me."

"Yes."

The answer was far too easy.

Liam sat back.

Then forward.

Then back again, as if no chair position could support the violence of that information.

"Your mother," he said carefully, "the Gabriel von Jaunez, manager of the Blue Ether Project, imperial consort of Agaron, and politically lethal omega, told you to charm me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you are brilliant."

Liam’s expression went flat. "Try again."