CHAPTER 287: CHAPTER 287: LIMITED OPTIONS (1)

"Grand Duchess, Their Highnesses, Mr. Andrew Malek has arrived."

The effect was immediate. Mia froze, teacup halfway to her lips. Serathine’s brow arched with interest, while Cressida’s lips curved faintly, as though she had been waiting for this moment. Sirius leaned back in his chair, all too eager for the show.

Andrew stepped into the room with the weight of a man who had carried responsibility too long on his own shoulders. Tall and broad-shouldered, with his dark hair swept neatly back and his coat on his arm. His vest and tie, black against the crisp white shirt, the sharp line of his glasses catching the chandelier’s light.

His eyes, a cutting shade of brown under the silver rims, swept the table once before fixing on Mia. His voice carried, low and even, with the quiet authority of an alpha who didn’t need to raise it to command.

"Greetings, Your Highnesses." He bowed politely.

Lucius inclined his head with the cool precision of a man weighing every detail. "Mr. Malek."

Sirius, by contrast, grinned as though he’d been handed dessert. "Finally. I was starting to think you’d send a letter instead."

Andrew’s gaze flicked toward him, sharp but steady, before returning to Mia. His posture softened just enough for her to notice. "Mia. I didn’t know you would be here."

Mia shifted in her seat, guilty but defiant. "I was tricked."

That earned a faint exhale from him, more weary than annoyed. He set his coat carefully over the back of a chair before lowering himself into it. "You make it sound like that’s new."

Sirius snorted into his cup. "She fits in already."

Andrew ignored him, adjusting his glasses with deliberate calm before his eyes shifted toward Lucas. "Is this an official discussion or a casual one?"

"Casual," Sirius said without losing his easiness. "But with consequences as cutting as the official one."

Andrew’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "So, in other words, a trap with tea and pastries."

"That’s one way to put it," Lucius replied, his tone cool but not without the faintest flicker of interest. "Though traps are only dangerous if you don’t see them coming."

"Or if you step into them willingly," Andrew returned evenly, the faintest edge in his voice.

Mia groaned, sinking back in her chair. "Please don’t start measuring whose metaphors are sharper. I’ve heard enough at work."

Sirius grinned. "You work for Fitzgeralt, don’t you? Then you should already know there’s no escaping sharp tongues in this family."

Andrew’s gaze narrowed faintly, but his tone remained polite. "I’m well aware. Years of reading reports with his name stamped across them taught me enough." His eyes flicked to Lucas, cool and assessing. "But what I didn’t expect was my sister sitting at the same table as the Fitzgeralts’ golden heir."

Lucas shrugged, green gaze steady as he lifted his teacup. "Then perhaps you’ve underestimated your sister."

Andrew’s eyes flicked to Mia, and for the first time, there was no reproach, only a quiet acknowledgment. "Perhaps I have."

The tension in the room eased by a hair, though Andrew’s posture never relaxed fully. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "Still, I’ll admit this much. I’ve been chasing threads since the moment I found out about Christopher, and I came up empty. Not a trace of him slipped past me. That... irritates me."

Lucius’s brows lifted, intrigued. "He learned quickly."

"Too quickly," Andrew said, his voice tightening. "I make my living finding ghosts in places they shouldn’t exist. But Christopher? Either he had help, or he’s more dangerous than anyone assumed."

"Or he learned from you," Lucas said, pouring a fresh cup of tea with unhurried precision. He slid it across the table, green gaze steady. "Now, this lovely meeting is to ask the two of you," his eyes flicked between Mia and Andrew, "who you will choose to align with."

Andrew accepted the cup, his fingers steady on the porcelain. He didn’t drink immediately, only studied Lucas for a long moment, weighing the weight behind the heir’s words. Then he spoke, his tone low.

"I assume that the Crown Prince, the Second Prince, and the two main houses of the empire already know we would never let the Malek leeches into our life."

Cressida’s lips curved, satisfied. "Good. Clarity is a rare gift these days."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling. "Direct, I like that. You’ll fit in."

Lucius’s gaze, however, remained sharp, probing. "And yet you hesitate. I can hear it in the way you phrase it. You’ve already drawn lines in your mind, but not conclusions."

Andrew finally sipped the tea, eyes never leaving Lucius’s. "I hesitate because I don’t know what you want from us. If His Majesty, King Dax, chose Chris, then I don’t think there is someone else that can stop him."

"There is no if anymore." Sirius sighed, leaning back in his chair, though the steel beneath the ease was unmistakable. "Dax won’t give up on his omega, and your extended family will try their best to leech on you. You have enough noble blood to tie you to either the Fitzgeralts, the D’Argentes, or the Imperial family."

Andrew’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed steady, calm. "Then what you’re asking isn’t if we stand with Chris, it’s which banner we wear while standing at his side."

Lucas’s green gaze cut across the table, measured and deliberate. "Exactly."

Serathine’s amber eyes glinted with amusement. "And what a rare thing, to be courted instead of discarded."

Cressida’s lips curved in something sharper than a smile. "Make no mistake, Mr. Malek. The Maleks will come knocking the moment Dax’s court announces Christopher’s name. If you don’t choose first, someone will choose for you."

Andrew exhaled through his nose, gaze sliding briefly to Mia before returning to the royals. "Then I suppose my hesitation isn’t about whether we stand with Chris. It’s about whether I trust anyone at this table not to use him, or us, the way the Maleks would."

The room stilled a fraction at his bluntness.

Lucas set his cup down, his tone clipped but unflinching. "Then I’ll say it plainly. You don’t have to trust us yet. But unfortunately, you actually have one option rather than the old Maleks. Serathine already adopted me a year and a half ago, and Fitzgeralt closed marriage with me a few months ago. Nobles would retaliate if you chose either of these two."

Cressida leaned back, her perfectly manicured finger tapping the fine porcelain of her cup. "No, even with the imperial family, the Maleks would call it greed. They would say the throne swallowed their branch to choke them out. We need a neutral house to help."

Andrew’s brows furrowed slightly, his voice calm but edged. "Neutral? There are no neutral houses left in Palatine. Every one of them bleeds into another."

Lucius’s dark eyes narrowed, sharp. "There are degrees. What Cressida means is this: if you stand openly with the imperial family, it becomes a war of dynasties. If you stand with Fitzgeralt or D’Argente, it becomes a feud of bloodlines. But if you choose an allied house that does not yet hold your name..." He leaned back, fingers steepled with precision. "It becomes a shield without appearing as a sword."

Sirius smirked, leaning forward with his chin in his hand. "Translation: you, Mr. Malek, have the rare luxury of choosing which roof you and your sister stand under before the Maleks try to drag you by the collar under theirs."

Andrew’s jaw flexed, his eyes dropping briefly to Mia, then back to the princes. "And you all assume we’ll bow neatly into the arrangement you’ve laid out for us."

Serathine’s amber eyes glowed, amused and warm but far too sharp to be kind. "Not assume. Expect. There is a difference."

Mia’s hand tightened against the edge of the table, her lips pressing together before she spoke, steady but taut. "And if we refuse?"