Andrea did not leave his suite.

That was not his choice.

By the time Thomas left Arion and Dean’s sitting room, the private wing assigned to the Vale family had already been converted into something that still looked elegant from the corridor and functioned, in practice, like a velvet-lined detention structure. Access bracelets were suspended. Private vehicles were locked in the underground bay. Personal devices were mirrored, copied, and removed from independent networks. Palace security stood at each end of the hall with the blank expressions of men and women who had been instructed to be polite unless someone became foolish.

Andrea, apparently, had become foolish once already.

No one intended to offer him a second opportunity.

By late morning, Otto had the Vale family in one of the secure conference rooms beneath the eastern administrative wing.

Arion should have been there already.

Dean should have gone with him.

That had been the plan for exactly twelve minutes, which in their current morning counted as long-term stability.

Then Lucas and Mia arrived.

Their aircraft landed under a clean blue sky that had clearly decided mockery was meteorological policy. Dean had stood beside Arion in the receiving hall with Boreas pressed against his leg, the dog freshly brushed, shamelessly majestic, and behaving like he had not committed multiple door-related crimes against household security.

Dean had prepared himself.

Badly, but he had prepared.

He expected Lucas to step inside with that terrifying calm he wore when love and disappointment had become too intertwined to separate. He expected Mia to hug him before he finished saying hello. He expected to hate how badly he wanted both.

What he had not prepared for was Lucas entering the receiving hall, taking one look at his face, and forgetting every lecture Dean had clearly deserved.

Lucas crossed the distance without a word and pulled him into his arms.

Dean froze for exactly one second.

Then his body betrayed him, as usual, and leaned in.

Lucas smelled like home, expensive soap, travel, and the familiar controlled warmth of a parent who had spent years learning how not to hold too tightly because his children were all sharp in different directions. His hand settled against the back of Dean’s head, careful, steady, and Dean suddenly hated Caelan more than he had ten minutes earlier.

Not because Caelan had tried to sell him.

Dean had already hated him for that.

But because the old man’s rot had followed him here, into this moment, turning an arrival that should have been embarrassing and affectionate and full of wedding-related ambush into something Lucas had to hold him through before even taking off his coat.

"You are alive," Lucas said quietly.

Dean’s throat closed.

He forced air through it anyway. "That keeps surprising people today."

Lucas held him a fraction tighter.

Mia stood just behind them with sunglasses pushed onto her head, looking at Arion over Dean’s shoulder with an expression that said she already knew enough to be dangerous and not enough to be satisfied.

Arion inclined his head. "Mia."

"Arion."

"You had a good flight?"

"We are fine," Mia said with a soft sigh. "Let’s... Let’s drink something while we talk." Her gaze moved briefly to Dean, then back to Arion. "You can leave Dean with us. I’m sure you can barely wait to punish Andrea and his family."

Dean lifted his head from Lucas’s shoulder at once. "I am still here."

"Yes," Mia said. "And looking like you might bite someone if they say the word proposal too loudly."

"That is a reasonable response."

"It is," Lucas said quietly.

Dean stared at him, briefly thrown off by the support.

Arion’s gaze moved between the three of them, then settled on Dean. "I am not leaving unless you want me to."

That sentence was exactly the kind of thing Dean hated him for saying in front of family because it was calm, controlled, and made everyone in the room understand too much.

Mia’s mouth softened.

Lucas’s eyes sharpened, but not unkindly.

Dean closed his eyes for half a second. "This is why I said your emotional competence is manipulative."

"I was not aware I was being manipulative."

"You never are. That is the problem."

Arion’s mouth curved faintly.

Mia removed her sunglasses completely and slid them into the pocket of her coat. "Dean, drink something. Coffee, water, wine, whatever keeps you from treating oxygen like a personal insult."

"I am not drinking wine before noon."

Mia gave him a look.

Dean frowned. "You are drinking wine before noon?"

"I raised two alpha sons with Lucius as their father," Mia said. "I survived Sebastian learning restraint through property damage and you discovering sarcasm before emotional regulation. I have dealt with palace doctors, school administrators, security officers, and one riding instructor who still changes direction when he sees our family name. I have never needed wine before noon."

She raised a finger. "And Chris is my brother."

Dean paused.

Arion, who had been reaching for his coffee, stopped moving entirely.

Lucas closed his eyes for one long, exhausted second, as if the name alone had opened a private archive of family incidents no sane person should revisit before lunch.

Mia looked between them with the absolute composure of a woman presenting irrefutable evidence in court. "That alone should legally entitle me to a vineyard."

Dean pointed at her. "Chris is not that bad."

Mia stared at him.

Dean held her gaze for approximately two seconds.

Then sighed. "Fine. Chris is selectively catastrophic."

"Chris once made an entire royal reception believe he was behaving while quietly reorganizing the power structure of Saha through seating arrangements and one necklace."

Lucas, without opening his eyes, said, "That was not his fault."

Mia turned toward him. "He knew exactly what he was doing."

"He usually does."

"That is my point."

Dean rubbed his forehead. "This family has a very generous definition of innocence."

Arion took a slow sip of coffee. "I am beginning to understand several things about you."

Dean looked at him sharply. "No, you are not."

"I think I am."

"Stop."

Mia lifted her wine glass with solemn dignity. "To survival. Of Lucius, Chris, alpha sons, wedding planning, and men who believe political sabotage is a suitable morning activity."

Lucas finally opened his eyes. "Mia."

"What? I didn’t name Andrea."

Dean picked up a pastry with the grim focus of a man accepting that the day was beyond repair. "No. You just aimed at him with family history and wine."

Mia took a measured sip. "I have restraint."

"You are drinking before noon."

"I have selective restraint."