Chapter 438: Diplomatic Exhaustion

Chapter 438: Chapter 438: Diplomatic Exhaustion

Arik returned to the guest suite well after sunrise.

Alexandria had already begun waking properly beyond the palace windows, the city pale beneath a cold morning sky while servants moved through the courtyards below preparing for the final wedding events. Somewhere farther down the royal wing, foreign delegations were probably beginning breakfast without realizing that one of their number had spent the night being relocated as part of an improvised international cover-up.

Arik had stopped caring approximately four hours earlier.

He closed the suite door quietly behind him and stood there for several seconds with his eyes shut.

His shirt smelled faintly of cold air, old stone, and enough coffee that he suspected it had permanently entered the fabric. His black hair had fallen completely out of whatever shape it had begun the evening in, and the collar sat open where he had stopped bothering to fasten it after the third meeting.

The bedroom was silent.

Arik entered carefully only to stop a moment later.

Liam had apparently decided that the entire bed belonged to him.

He was asleep diagonally across the mattress wearing nothing except dark underwear, one arm stretched above his head and the other abandoned somewhere beneath a pillow. The blankets had been kicked almost entirely toward the foot of the bed, leaving his bare legs exposed to the warm room, while his brown hair spread across the pillow in complete disorder.

He looked like a cat that had discovered sunlight and expanded to occupy every available surface.

Arik stared.

For several seconds, the exhaustion disappeared.

His first instinct was to climb into bed, wrap himself around Liam, and remain there until somebody produced a legitimate national emergency.

Liam shifted slightly, breathed deeper into the pillow, and relaxed again.

Arik decided not to wake him.

He deserved the sleep.

More importantly, waking Liam while he was dressed like that would almost certainly destroy what remained of Arik’s self-control, and he had already failed to spend the previous night as intended.

He leaned down carefully and pressed a kiss to Liam’s shoulder.

No reaction beyond a faint movement of his fingers.

Arik straightened and went toward the bathroom.

The guest suite’s bath had been designed for visiting royalty and therefore contained more marble than any reasonable person needed. A deep sunken tub occupied one side beneath tall frosted windows, with heated stone floors and an ether-controlled water system Liam had inspected on their first visit years ago purely because he did not trust other people’s engineering.

Arik filled the bath hotter than necessary.

He stripped and sank into it until the water reached his chest.

For the first time since Gerard had walked onto that balcony, there was nothing immediately demanding his attention.

Arik let his head rest against the edge of the tub.

He was done with diplomacy.

Temporarily.

Possibly permanently.

Gerard’s death would become official soon enough. Lirya would react, its court would fracture for a brief period, and Lucien would need to return quickly enough that nobody else had time to establish a competing claim.

Which meant a coronation.

Another diplomatic event.

Another flight.

More formal clothing.

More people discussing stability while secretly calculating what they could obtain from a new king.

Arik opened one eye.

Absolutely not.

He had spent two years helping prepare Lucien.

That was contribution enough.

Cyran could go.

The prime minister had wanted responsibility. Excellent.

He now possessed enough of it to represent Nuria while everyone in Lirya congratulated Lucien and pretended they had always believed he was secretly brilliant.

Arik sank lower into the water.

Kamal could accompany him.

That would add enough imperial weight to stop anyone claiming Nuria had treated the coronation casually.

Then another thought occurred.

Theron.

Arik smiled.

Kamal and Theron could travel together.

Cyran could suffer through the official ceremonies, speeches, diplomatic meetings, succession negotiations, trade discussions, and whatever miserable dinner required everyone to sit according to rank.

Kamal could appear when imperial dignity was necessary.

Theron could accompany him.

And afterward, the two older men could remain several days somewhere pleasant under the entirely legitimate excuse of recovering from their diplomatic duties.

A sweet retreat.

Arik approved immediately.

He could already imagine Mezos’s expression when informed that his father and Kamal were being sent abroad together for what would technically be a state assignment and practically become a romantic holiday once the coronation ended.

That alone made the plan worthwhile.

Arik closed his eyes again.

Perhaps he was still capable of enjoying diplomacy... from a distance.

Arik stretched one arm along the edge of the tub while considering the far more important problem.

Liam wanted a child.

The thought returned with enough force that Arik’s mouth curved automatically.

He had managed not to become unbearable about it for almost an entire day.

An achievement.

Of course, Gerard had ruined their first proper opportunity by dying.

Another offense to add to the list.

Arik wondered how soon Liam could arrange the contraceptive implant removal once they returned to Nuria.

Knowing Liam, he would already be researching timing, medical recommendations, heat-cycle fertility, and probably statistical probabilities that Arik would refuse to read because he preferred a more practical approach.

Repeated practical attempts.

Arik smiled wider.

The bathroom door opened.

He looked over.

Liam stood there, barefoot, sleepy enough that his crimson eyes were only half open.

His hair looked even worse than it had on the pillow, falling messily around his face and shoulders.

He was wearing one of Arik’s black shirts.

It reached nearly to mid-thigh on him, the sleeves rolled several times because Arik’s arms were considerably longer, and only three buttons had been fastened somewhere around the middle.

There was very clearly nothing underneath it.

Arik stopped breathing for a moment.

Liam leaned against the doorframe and looked at him through half-awake crimson eyes.

"You came back."

Arik’s gaze moved slowly down the shirt and up to his mate’s face.

"Yes."

Liam noticed exactly where he had been looking.

His mouth curved.

Arik sat a little straighter in the bath.

Suddenly, diplomacy seemed very far away.