Chapter 325: Bribery
Arik followed Liam into the next room and the one after that, listening while his future husband explained—with increasing certainty—which walls would have to come down, which conduits were salvageable, and which decorative choices constituted crimes against engineering.
By the time they completed the eastern side of Felix’s private wing, Liam had already decided that the old receiving room could become a materials analysis hall, the archive would be repurposed for secure records, and at least half of the ornamental partitions would be removed on principle.
"Those screens serve no useful function," Liam said, stopping before a carved divider of pale metal and dark lacquer. Gold filigree curled through its frame in an aggressively decorative pattern. "They obstruct sightlines, trap dust, and create unnecessary dead corners."
Mezos, who had been watching Liam redesign the seized palace in real time, glanced at Arik. "He is nesting."
"It is not nesting," Liam said without turning around. "It is planning."
Severin looked toward the divider. "He has identified weaknesses, improvements, and territory. That sounds very similar."
Liam finally turned, golden eyes narrowed. "If you continue supporting each other like this, I will reassign both of you to Rubis."
That silenced Mezos immediately.
Arik laughed.
He watched Liam take three more slow steps into the room, his attention already caught by the old ether conduits running beneath the walls. He still wore the dark burgundy coat from earlier, though the front hung open now over a black shirt and charcoal trousers, the overall effect softened by the way his long brown hair had partly loosened around his face during the inspection. Even with golden eyes, with the impossible revelation of Enki still hanging over all of them, he remained very much so, Liam: practical, stubborn, brilliant, and currently offended by architecture.
Arik found that reassuring.
He also found it useful.
"Enough," he said.
Liam looked back. "Enough what?"
"Enough palace for one afternoon."
"I have not seen the south wing."
"You are not seeing it today."
"That sounds arbitrary."
"It is not." Arik stepped forward, caught Liam’s hand, and drew him toward the corridor. "You agreed to something."
The suspicion arrived immediately.
Liam stopped walking. "No."
Mezos smiled.
Severin, who had clearly understood much faster than Liam wanted, looked toward the ceiling with the expression of a man who preferred not to be implicated.
Arik tightened his hand around Liam’s. "Yes."
"We are in the middle of an inspection."
"We are at the end of an inspection."
"I am not done being disappointed by Felix."
"You can continue tomorrow."
Liam’s gaze sharpened. "Rubis is involved, isn’t he?"
"Deeply."
Liam closed his eyes.
"Traitor," he said, though it was unclear whether he meant Arik, Severin, Mezos, or fate.
"All of us, probably," Mezos offered.
Arik laughed harder this time.
Liam let himself be led from the room with the dignity of a man under polite arrest. Behind them, Mezos began issuing instructions to the remaining technical team while Severin stayed to complete the security sweep. Neither made any serious effort to help.
They crossed back through the old corridors beneath pale stone arches and long, quiet runs of wall lights. The seized palace remained calm around them now. No hidden system reached for Liam. No formation reacted to his presence beyond the ordinary response due to Arik and the future sovereign’s mate. The Trial was closed. Liam had golden eyes. Whatever part of Felix’s machinery had once waited for him was gone.
That should have reassured Liam more.
Instead, he remained faintly irritated that Felix’s great secret residence turned out to contain more wardrobe storage than science.
The private lift deposited them not in their rooms, but in the residential wing’s ceremonial dressing level.
Liam saw the doors, stopped, and looked at Arik in mute accusation.
Arik’s expression did not change.
"You promised kisses," Liam said.
"I fulfilled that promise."
"You also promised my laboratory."
"You are getting that too."
"That leaves only the unreasonable part."
Arik drew him forward again. "You said you wanted this finished."
"I want many things finished. That does not mean I want to participate in them."
The doors opened before he could mount a proper defense.
Rubis had, predictably, prepared for resistance.
The dressing salon glowed beneath warm suspended lights that turned the pale floors almost honey-colored. Tall mirrors framed in dark metal lined one wall. Bolts of fabric rested on broad tables. Several projection screens floated above a central platform. A faint scent of pressed linen, tea, and polish hung in the air.
Rubis stood near the platform in formal purple and black, dressed with the polished precision Liam associated with both ceremonial authority and personal menace. His long outer coat combined a fitted modern line with older Nurian draping, deep violet embroidered in muted gold over black panels. A narrow decorative sash crossed one side of his torso, and a small insignia rested at his chest.
Beside him stood one of his attendants, a dark-haired woman in a refined imperial gown of rich purple with gold thread worked through the sleeves and bodice. Her hair had been pinned up with restrained gold ornaments, and she held a tablet with the calm focus of someone fully prepared for Liam to be difficult.
Liam stared at both of them.
"This is coordinated intimidation."
Rubis smiled. "You came."
"I was dragged."
"And bribed," Arik added.
Liam looked at him with disgust.
Rubis’s attendant accepted Liam’s coat the moment he shrugged it off, then the thin black overshirt beneath it until he was left in fitted dark trousers and a sleeveless underlayer clearly chosen for repeated measurements.
He pointed at Arik. "If this becomes intolerable, you are responsible."
"I am aware."
Rubis activated the central projections.
Four designs appeared above the platform and not fourteen, as he was informed earlier.
Liam’s suspicion eased marginally.
"You reduced them."
"I have learned to value efficiency," Rubis said.
Arik, taking a seat near the windows, said, "That is a diplomatic way of admitting he expects you to flee."
"I would not flee," Liam said.
Rubis raised a brow.
Liam considered.
"I would leave with dignity."
The first outfit was traditional in the way Liam disliked most: too many ceremonial layers, overbuilt shoulder structure, and enough ornamental metal to compromise comfort.
"No."
"You have not tried it on," Rubis said.
"It offends me on sight."
The attendant, to her credit, did not laugh.
The second was better, darker, and more restrained but still too close to a full court robe.
The third made Arik look interested.
That alone made Liam distrust it.
The fourth, however, gave him pause.
Rubis noticed immediately.
It was clearly related to the old Nurian ceremonial line once worn in Goliath’s era but reworked into something more modern.
The base was a fitted, high-collared coat in deep violet, dark enough to approach black in shadow, shaped through the torso, and closed with a clean asymmetrical fastening. Gold embroidery traced the collar, cuffs, and front seam in controlled, elegant lines. A black panel crossed one side of the body and continued into a broad belt at the waist, where a subtle ornamental clasp anchored the silhouette. The lower half fell in long clean lines, with layered back panels that suggested a robe or cape without becoming unwieldy.
Traditional enough to satisfy Rubis.
Modern enough not to insult Liam.
Arik stood the moment he saw Liam looking too long.
"Try that one."
Liam gave him a narrow look. "You sound invested."
"I have eyes."
"That is unfortunate."
Rubis and his attendant helped Liam into the garment.
The fit was not final, but even unfinished, it settled beautifully over his frame.
He turned toward the mirror.
The only discordant note was the detailing at the collar and clasp, which had been set with deep crimson stones—chosen, clearly, for the eyes and ether he had before the Trial.
Rubis saw it too.
"We will need to reconsider the stones."
"No," Liam said.
Everyone looked at him.
Liam lifted one hand, touched the narrow crimson inlay near the collar, and let his ether move.
A minute later, the reflection looking back at them had crimson eyes again.
Rubis stared.
Arik’s expression did not shift much, but satisfaction warmed through the bond so distinctly that Liam could almost taste it.
"There," Liam said. "Problem solved."
Rubis recovered with impressive speed.
"Very well," he said, though his voice carried the faint strain of a man reorganizing several assumptions at once. "Then the crimson remains."
"It remains," Liam agreed.
Arik crossed the room and came to stand behind him, one hand resting at his waist as they both looked into the mirror.
Liam exhaled.
"This one."