CHAPTER 440: CHAPTER 450: NEW COUPLE.

"To Lucius," she said, soft and certain. "And everything they’ll never touch."

As if summoned by the toast, or more likely, by the gods of political inconvenience, Lucius appeared behind them with the weary elegance of a man who had just escaped diplomatic captivity.

He didn’t wait to be acknowledged. He stepped into the circle like it was a lifeboat.

"I swear," he muttered, "if one more noble asks me about heirs, I will burn this ballroom to the ground."

Chris turned slightly. "Good evening, darling."

Lucius gave him a look. "You knew, didn’t you?"

Chris smiled. "Define ’knew.’"

"They cornered me by the archway near the elder council," Lucius continued, as if Chris hadn’t spoken. "Three different lines of succession. Two genetic charts. A ten-minute lecture on the fertility decline of secondborn alphas."

Lucas winced. "That’s rough."

"Rough," Lucius repeated, deadpan. "They said, and I quote, ’If your brother refuses to do his duty, you may have to reconsider his right to inherit. An heirless crown is a weak one.’"

Sirius didn’t even blink; he had started to hear the same speech the moment he was eighteen and it became worse with Lucas’s child. "Did you stab anyone?"

"No," Lucius snapped. "Because I’m trying to be the calm brother."

Chris tilted his head. "How’s that going?"

Lucius turned to Sirius and leveled him with a look that could have bent steel.

"Do your job," he said flatly. "I’m tired of being asked if you’re capable of having children."

Sirius raised his glass again. "Physically? Yes. Politically? No. Emotionally? Never."

"I don’t care," Lucius said. "Fake a relationship. Buy a dog. Adopt an heir from the coast. Just... do something."

Cressida blinked, her deep blue eyes filled with amusement. "You are aware that Sirius has three consorts? At this point he is trolling everyone."

Lucius looked heavenward, like he was praying for divine evacuation. "That doesn’t help, Cressida."

"It helps me," Sirius muttered. "I’m entertained."

Chris, sipping his drink, added helpfully, "One of them still thinks he’s going to be crowned Consort-Imperial."

"He tried to follow me into a Council briefing," Sirius said. "I had him assigned to the diplomatic envoy to Rohan as a reward."

"That’s exile," Mia noted.

"Exactly," Sirius replied, utterly unrepentant.

Lucius dragged a hand down his face. "You’re supposed to stabilize the Empire, not audition spin-offs for a royal disaster."

"They were all volunteers," Sirius said. "Some of them even had brochures."

Lucas wheezed. "Wait. Like, printed? Glossy?"

Chris nodded. "One of them had a section titled ’Why Sirius and I Are the Future of the Empire.’"

"Did it include children?" Lucius asked darkly.

"Yes," Sirius said. "Three. All named after constellations."

"Of course they were," Lucius muttered. "And did you respond?"

Sirius took a long drink. "I mailed them a star chart and circled none of the above."

Trevor coughed into his glass. "Honestly? That’s elegant."

"I’m running out of elegant," Lucius snapped. "They asked if Mia could carry a child for me and Sirius."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Chris said, too calmly, "Dax, do you want to set fire to some nobles?"

Dax didn’t even look up from his glass. "Do you want the fast-burning kind or the ones that scream longer?"

Cressida didn’t miss a beat. "I vote for a tasteful blaze with excellent lighting. Something that flatters Mia."

"Chris, for the love of god, please don’t burn anything in a foreign country," a voice said, dry and familiar.

They turned slightly as Ethan approached, unhurried, perfectly dressed in court-appropriate charcoal and navy, with the posture that said he still wasn’t used to standing next to kings. His pale gold eyes swept the group like someone who was resigned to being surrounded by chaos but liked it anyway.

Ethan, who was once a beta and civil engineer, was now officially listed as an omega in the Empire’s citizen registry, a change that hadn’t come from some biology miracle but from an accident. After a structural collapse on a civil development site one year ago, he had emerged barely alive while saving two other persons and covered in something that changed him forever. The nobles had been fascinated. Chris had been furious. The empire had adjusted.

Ethan, meanwhile, had kept showing up to events like this, ballrooms full of silk and monsters, and somehow managed to stay untouched.

"Ethan!" Mia said, delighted. She moved instinctively, like she might cross the short space between them.

Only for Lucius to step forward with calm and wrap his arm around her waist.

"You can greet him from here," Lucius said, voice soft enough not to cause a scene, firm enough to leave no room for argument. "There is no need to hug him in an official setting."

Mia blinked. Once. Then let herself settle into his arms without resistance. "Protective much?"

"Always," Lucius said, his tone gentler now. "Especially when people are watching."

Ethan gave them both a mild look. "I wasn’t going to bite her."

"That’s not the point," Lucius replied. "This crowd doesn’t understand boundaries unless they’re printed on banners and enforced with armed guards."

"They also think you and Sirius might co-father an heir," Chris added helpfully, tilting his glass toward Ethan. "So really, you’re the least scandalous person here."

"I heard," Ethan said dryly. "I almost turned around. But then I remembered I promised Mia I’d stay until dessert."

"I did," Mia confirmed, relaxing slightly against Lucius. "He’s my buffer."

"I am your buffer," Lucius corrected.

"You’re my fiancé," Mia replied. "You’re contractually obligated. Ethan does it for free."

"Remind me to start charging," Ethan said.

Cressida smirked. "Too late. You’re ours now."

Lucas leaned in, grinning. "Do you want a title? We could invent one. Royal Advisor of Reasonable Decisions.

"

Trevor added, "Beta Emeritus of Sanity and Structural Integrity."

"Please stop," Ethan said, but he was smiling.

Sirius watched the exchange quietly. Then said, "You’re the only person in this room who hasn’t threatened to commit arson tonight. That’s rare."

Ethan shrugged. "That’s because I’m the only one who still pays rent."

Chris raised a brow. "And that’s adorable."

Lucius, still half-shielding Mia with his body, asked, "Did anyone from the Malek side corner you?"

"Two aunts and a cousin," Ethan replied. "They tried to convince me I was secretly of noble blood. I told them my father was a welder."

"Did they faint?" Cressida asked, sipping delicately.

"No," Ethan said. "But one of them did drop her wineglass."

"I’d frame that," Chris said.

"You would," Ethan muttered.

Mia smiled softly. "I’m glad you’re here."

Ethan returned the look, and for a moment, the noise of the ballroom blurred around the edges.

"I know," he said. "Which is why I came and someone has to keep Chris from committing arson; the King is not that reliable after all."

Dax finally looked up, the slow turn of his head somehow more menacing than a shout. "Why would I contain my mate’s creativity?" He dared to smile, graciously, shamesly like there was nothing wrong with that.

Dax finally looked up, the slow turn of his head somehow more menacing than a shout.

"Why would I contain my mate’s creativity?" he asked, voice smooth as silk and just as sharp. He smiled graciously. Shamelessly. Like there was nothing wrong with letting Chris burn down a wing or two for aesthetic reasons.

The rest of the group froze, if only to brace for impact.

Ethan arched a brow, unshaken. "Because some of us live in those wings."

Dax didn’t blink. "Then choose better real estate."

Chris sighed like a man on the edge of a migraine. "Gentlemen..."

"King," Dax corrected, without looking away from Ethan.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. "Engineer."

That landed. Not loudly, but with enough weight to make even Cressida pause, her glass hovering just slightly mid-air.

Chris pressed his lips together. "You know, it’s fascinating how two people who’ve never shared more than five sentences could turn a gathering into a civil war."

"I’ve shared six," Dax said. "Five of them were threats."

Lucas coughed. "That tracks."

Trevor was already quietly texting someone, probably to cancel something.

Ethan took a calm breath, shoulders square. "I’m not here to argue."

"No," Dax said. "You’re here to stand too close to my mate, speak too familiarly, and make observations that imply you have any say in how I protect him."

Ethan tilted his head. "I didn’t say I had a say. I said I had experience. Which is apparently more than some people."

Chris turned slowly, eyes wide. "Did you just imply the King of Saha is inexperienced?"

"I didn’t imply it," Ethan said. "I said it plainly."

Dax stood.

Not with force. Not even abruptly. He rose like a mountain, remembering it had gravity.

Chris placed a hand on his chest immediately. "Dax. No."

Dax didn’t look away from Ethan. "He insulted me."

"You insulted him first," Chris snapped.

"He started it," Dax muttered.

Ethan held his ground. "I was here before you. I’ll be here after you. You want to mark territory; do it somewhere else."

There was a crackle in the air, something sharp and old and laced with dominance.

And Sirius, watching it all, took a slow sip of his drink.

Then turned slightly toward Ethan.

"You’ve got nerve," he said, voice neutral.

Ethan’s eyes flicked to him. "I work construction. I’ve had rebar through my shoulder. Royal drama doesn’t scare me."

Something in Sirius’s expression changed. Just slightly. Like someone had opened a window in a room long shut.

Chris blinked. "Oh no."

Cressida whispered, "Oh yes."

Sirius studied Ethan for another long moment. Then he said, "Come walk with me."

Ethan didn’t move. "Why?"

Sirius shrugged. "Because I’d like to know why Dax wants to throw you off a balcony. And whether I agree with him."

Chris opened his mouth. "Sirius..."

"I’m joking," Sirius said.

He wasn’t.

But Ethan stepped forward anyway.

"I’ll walk," he said. "But only if we avoid the balconies."

"Deal," Sirius said.

And with that, the Crown Prince of the Empire and the civil engineer turned omega walked away together, side by side, leaving a stunned and slightly scorched silence in their wake.

Dax sat down again slowly.

"I don’t like him," he muttered.

Chris patted his chest. "You never liked him."

"He’s too calm," Dax growled. "It’s suspicious."

Cressida smiled. "You know what’s more suspicious?"

Dax looked at her warily. "What?"

She raised her glass again, gleaming.

"Sirius smiled."