The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

Arik arrived to collect Liam fifteen minutes before they were expected downstairs.

He had dressed for the evening without turning himself into a funeral procession, which Liam appreciated.

The suit was pale, somewhere between warm ivory and stone, tailored close through Arik’s broad shoulders before falling cleanly along his frame. Gold appeared only in narrow details at the cuffs and beneath the collar, understated enough that the sovereign insignia pinned at his chest carried most of the imperial weight. His black hair had been swept back from his forehead, softening around his ears and the nape of his neck whenever it escaped whatever Rubis had used to convince it into place.

He looked annoyingly good.

Liam was still deciding whether that justified forgiving him for being nearly a head taller than everyone else when Arik stepped through the dressing-room doors.

Ayla saw him first.

She looked at Arik and then at Liam; she burst out laughing.

Arik stopped.

Liam closed his eyes.

"Ayla."

Arik’s eyebrows rose.

Ayla gathered the skirt and jacket she had apparently abandoned across one of the benches while helping Liam and headed for the adjoining door.

"I should get dressed."

"You should have done that twenty minutes ago," Liam said.

"I was busy."

"With what?"

Ayla glanced back at him, grin widening.

Arik followed her gaze.

Liam immediately regretted asking.

"I’ll see you downstairs."

She sprinted from the dressing room before Liam could stop her.

The door shut.

Silence followed.

Arik looked toward the door for a moment before moving his golden gaze toward Liam.

His expression became suspicious.

"What did she do?"

"Nothing."

"That answer has never once meant nothing in this family."

Liam adjusted one sheer cuff.

"She explored."

Arik’s gaze finally dropped properly to what Liam was wearing.

He went still.

Liam noticed immediately.

The reaction was subtle enough that anyone else might have missed it. Arik did not gasp, forget how to speak, or visibly lose control of his ether.

He simply stopped moving.

His eyes traveled from Liam’s face to the open neckline of the black shirt, down across the translucent fabric where warm skin showed beneath fine black weave and old-fashioned gold embroidery, then farther to the fitted waist and high black trousers.

Slowly... Very slowly.

Liam’s confidence improved considerably.

"Well?"

Arik did not answer.

Liam leaned one hip against the dressing table.

"That good?"

Arik took one step forward.

Liam smiled.

Apparently yes.

Another step.

The faint smoky caramel of Arik’s pheromones deepened around them, not enough to overwhelm the room but more than enough for Liam to recognize exactly where his husband’s thoughts had gone.

"Arik."

His husband stopped directly in front of him.

Liam looked up.

Gold eyes had darkened.

"That is not an answer."

"You expect words?"

"I generally find them useful."

Arik touched the edge of Liam’s collar.

His fingers followed the gold embroidery where it curved along the open neckline before stopping against the sheer fabric covering Liam’s chest.

"This is clothing?"

Liam laughed.

"Technically."

"That seems generous."

"You are the one staring."

"I am attempting to determine how I am expected to attend a reception after seeing this."

Liam’s smile widened.

"You have seen me naked."

"That is different."

"How?"

"I know what to do when you are naked."

Liam stared at him.

Arik’s mouth curved.

"That was terrible."

Arik only hummed while his palm settled against Liam’s waist.

The thin shirt did almost nothing to prevent the warmth of Arik’s hand from reaching his skin.

Liam inhaled.

"You like it," Liam said.

"I am deciding whether the gathering is necessary."

"It is for my siblings."

"They already met me."

"They are meeting everyone else."

"Unfortunate."

Liam laughed as Arik stepped closer, until the edge of the dressing table pressed lightly behind his hips.

The look he gave Liam made it extremely obvious that Arik was imagining something which would make arriving downstairs on time impossible.

Liam placed one hand flat against the center of his pale jacket.

"No."

"I have said nothing."

"You are thinking very loudly."

Arik bent until his mouth hovered near Liam’s ear.

"I was thinking about putting you against that wall."

Liam’s gaze flicked toward the mirrored wall beside them.

"That sounds terrible for your suit."

"I can remove the suit."

Liam laughed and pushed gently against his chest.

"We are going downstairs."

"In fifteen minutes."

"Fourteen now."

Arik looked genuinely offended by time.

His thumb moved beneath the lower edge of Liam’s vest, brushing the translucent fabric at his waist.

"Where did this come from?"

Liam glanced toward the open historical section of the wardrobe.

"Ayla found it."

"That explains the laughter."

"She invaded the preservation wing."

Arik followed his gaze, narrowed his eyes, and looked back at Liam.

"Is it historical?"

"A reconstruction."

"Of what?"

Liam adjusted one cuff.

"Apparently this style belonged to the old consort wardrobes. Rubis showed me similar pieces when I first came here."

Arik’s expression shifted into curiosity rather than recognition.

"Which consort?"

"Hugo."

That made him pause.

"Hugo wore things like this?"

"According to Rubis. Sheer shirts, structured vests, fitted trousers. Apparently he liked softer fabrics when court protocol did not require ceremonial dress."

Arik looked down at the shirt again.

"Well."

Liam waited.

"I approve of Hugo’s taste."

Liam laughed.

"That is your historical assessment?"

"My historical assessment is that he understood clothing."

"You did not even know where this came from thirty seconds ago."

"I did not need context to appreciate it."

That, Liam, believed.

Arik’s gaze had been considerably too honest.

Liam glanced at the mirror.

The outfit still felt unfamiliar on him, more revealing than anything he normally wore to political gatherings, but Arik’s reaction had eliminated most of the hesitation that remained.

"You do not think it looks like I am trying to imitate him?"

Arik frowned as though the question itself made little sense.

"No."

"No?"

"You are wearing a shirt." He said with a shrug.

"A historically reconstructed shirt based on your former-life consort’s wardrobe."

"And you are still Liam."

The answer came without effort.

Arik touched the mate stone resting against Liam’s chest, then let his fingers slide down over the sheer fabric.

"I did not look at you and think of Hugo."

Liam relaxed.

"What did you think?"

Arik smiled slowly.

"That you should not have let me find you alone."

Heat crawled up Liam’s throat.

"There it is."

"You asked."

"I should stop doing that."

"You never will."

Probably not.

Arik leaned down and kissed him, careful at first, as though preserving Rubis’s work mattered. Liam immediately ruined that by catching the pale lapels and pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened for several seconds before Arik broke it himself.

A rare act of discipline.

Liam looked at him suspiciously.

"You stopped."

"I would like to attend your siblings’ party without explaining why the Empress Consort needs to change clothes."

Liam smiled.

"Responsible."

"Painfully."

Arik stepped back and adjusted Liam’s collar where he had disturbed it, smoothing the gold embroidery into place with the concentration of someone who had not been thinking about wardrobe preservation thirty seconds earlier.

Then his hands remained on Liam’s waist.

"After."

Liam raised an eyebrow.

"After what?"

"The gathering."

"That sounded like a threat."

"A promise, Eshara."

Liam laughed and took his hand.

"Come on, Emperor."

Arik allowed himself to be pulled toward the door, although his eyes dropped once more to the sheer black shirt before they left the wardrobe.

Liam caught him.

Arik did not bother pretending otherwise.

The party suddenly seemed considerably more interesting.