Chapter 452: Strategic Disclosure

By the time Enia, Ayla, and Mirelle arrived, Arik had already returned to work.

Liam considered that progress.

For the first month after Renata’s birth, Arik had developed a talent for appearing in rooms where nobody expected him, usually under the excuse that he happened to be passing through. Liam had eventually informed him that emperors did not repeatedly happen to pass through the nursery six times before lunch.

Arik had disagreed.

Now, at least, he was back in the imperial wing for several hours each day, which allowed Liam to receive family without his husband watching every person who came within arm’s reach of their daughter.

Simon remained at the academy and had declined the visit with the practical explanation that missing another laboratory session would require making it up on a weekend, which he considered unacceptable.

Henry had disappeared into the gardens almost immediately after arriving.

Apparently, Kamal and Theron had invited him to inspect something near the eastern terraces.

Liam had watched the three men leave through the glass doors, Henry in a dark wool coat, Theron still carrying himself like a general despite retirement, and Kamal gesturing with his cane toward a row of recently replanted shrubs.

“They are discussing roses,” Enia had said.

“Theron pointed at the wall like he was planning artillery placement.”

Mirelle had glanced outside.

“It can be both.”

Liam did not argue against that.

He settled into the large sofa near the windows with Renata asleep against his chest, dressed in a soft cream wrap that left only her face and one small hand visible. His eyes had finally returned completely to crimson after the stubborn gold lingered through the first week and faded only gradually afterward.

Mirelle had noticed the moment she entered.

“Back to normal.”

Liam looked at her.

“That word has become suspiciously popular around me.”

“I meant your eyes.”

“I know.”

Mirelle smiled and sat opposite him, arranging the skirt of her dark green dress with the practiced ease of someone who could move between old Wrohanian drawing rooms and Nurian imperial salons without ever appearing out of place.

She was enjoying that considerably more than Liam had expected.

Over the past year, Mirelle Armstrong had somehow built herself a social life across two countries.

In Alexandria, she remained exactly what she had always been: a woman from one of Wrohan’s old noble families who knew three generations of gossip, remembered every marriage alliance worth remembering, and could identify who was offended by whom before anyone admitted offense existed.

In Deira, she had become something more dangerous.

Curiosity had carried her through introductions to Nurian noblewomen, provincial families, academy patrons, cultural foundations, and enough social committees that Sophia had eventually stopped pretending Mirelle was merely visiting.

Now she navigated both worlds with visible pleasure.

“I have dinner with Lady Merova tomorrow,” Mirelle said.

Liam looked up.

“Again?”

“She has excellent information.”

“You mean gossip.”

“Information becomes gossip when people are boring about it.”

Enia laughed from the armchair beside her.

Ayla sat near the fire, unusually quiet.

Liam noticed immediately.

His sister had arrived wearing black trousers, a soft burgundy sweater, and the expression of someone who had rehearsed a conversation several times and disliked every possible version.

Enia had not noticed yet.

Mirelle had.

She accepted her tea from the servant, waited until the door closed, and looked directly at Ayla.

“What did you do?”

Ayla frowned.

“Why does everyone ask me that?”

Liam smiled down at Renata.

“Experience.”

Enia turned toward her daughter.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

Ayla took a breath.

“That depends on how dramatic everyone decides to become.”

Mirelle lowered her cup.

Liam almost laughed, but kept it under control by kissing his daughter’s forehead.

She had planned this.

He could see it now.

Ayla had deliberately chosen a moment when Henry was safely outside, and Simon was at the academy. She intended to deal with Enia and Mirelle first, survive whatever happened, and only afterward confront Henry.

Enia folded her hands in her lap.

“What is it?”

Ayla looked at Liam. Liam raised one eyebrow. He was not rescuing her. She understood.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Mirelle relaxed slightly.

“That is what this is about?”

Ayla hesitated.

Enia’s expression sharpened.

“Who?”

Ayla looked at the ceiling for half a second.

“Lucien.

Silence settled over the room.

Renata made a tiny sound against Liam’s chest and returned immediately to sleep.

Mirelle blinked.

Enia stared at Ayla.

Liam watched both of them with considerable interest.

Mirelle recovered first.

“King Lucien?”

“Yes.”

“The King of Lirya.”

Ayla’s shoulders rose slightly.

“There is only one Lucien relevant enough for this reaction.”

Mirelle sat back, then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

Liam recognized that expression and almost felt sorry for Lucien.

Enia was slower.

“How long?”

“A while.”

“Ayla.”

“Months.”

Enia closed her eyes.

Liam adjusted Renata against his chest before the conversation became louder.

Ayla leaned forward.

“I knew you were going to react like this.”

“Then perhaps there was a reason.”

“I didn’t hide him because I thought something was wrong. Everything around him was complicated. Gerard was alive, Lucien was still preparing for the throne, and anything public would have turned into a political story immediately.”

Mirelle’s gaze sharpened.

“He approached you?”

Ayla hesitated.

“No.”

Mirelle looked toward Liam.

Liam remained carefully neutral.

Enia noticed.

“You knew.”

“Recently.”

“And Arik?”

Liam smiled faintly.

Enia sighed.

“Of course.”

Ayla shifted in her chair.

“Lucien actually tried to tell me to stay away from him.”

Mirelle’s eyebrows rose.

“That was foolish.”

“I told him that.”

Liam laughed under his breath.

Enia gave her sister a look.

Mirelle ignored it.

“What exactly did he think would happen when he told an Armstrong woman to stay away?”

Ayla pointed toward her.

“Thank you.”

“That was not approval. I am criticizing his strategy.”

Enia rubbed her temple.

Liam could see where Ayla got the gesture.

“He is a king,” Enia said. “A new king. In a country that has barely stabilized after Gerard.”

“I know.”

“You would be dragged into that.”

“I know that too.”

“And people would decide anything you do has political meaning.”

Ayla’s expression softened slightly.

“I’ve thought about it.”

Mirelle studied her niece for several seconds.

“You love him?”

Ayla went quiet.

Liam looked up.

That was the first question that truly unsettled her.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to call it that.”

Mirelle nodded.

A better answer than pretending certainty.

Enia exhaled slowly.

“And Henry?”

Ayla grimaced.

“That is why I’m telling you first.”

Liam laughed.

Enia stared at her.

“You arranged this.”

“I am not stupid.”

Mirelle picked up her tea again, visibly entertained now.

“So you plan to survive your mother and aunt before informing your stepfather that you are dating a foreign king.”

Ayla looked toward the garden windows.

Outside, Henry had stopped beside Theron while Kamal gestured toward a long stone border filled with dormant plants.

“Yes.”

Liam followed her gaze.

Theron spread both hands over the layout.

Henry nodded thoughtfully.

Kamal pointed toward the eastern wall.

Liam still could not decide whether they were discussing flowers or defensive positions.

Possibly a perimeter suitable for both.

Ayla sank deeper into her chair.

“How bad do you think it will be?”

Enia looked toward her husband through the glass.

“Henry likes you.”

“That does not answer me.”

Mirelle smiled.

“It answers enough.”

Ayla groaned.

Liam looked down at Renata, who remained peacefully oblivious to her aunt’s diplomatic crisis.

For once, he was glad Arik was at work.

One imperial threat to Lucien had probably been enough for the month.