Chapter 114: Chapter 114: The purge (2) (Win-Win)

He ended the call with a faint click and stayed still for a moment, listening to the hum of the line as if it could somehow hold Dax’s presence a little longer. The palace felt lighter afterward, or maybe he just did.

It wasn’t much, just a voice half buried in fatigue and a few careless words that sounded too much like affection, but it was enough. Dax had called and told him why he had to leave. For Christopher, who had spent the last week arguing with his own nerves, that was a victory.

When he came down to the dining room, Nadia was already there, setting the table herself despite the staff’s protests. She gave him the once-over that served as her version of affection: a slow examination of his posture, skin, and appetite.

“You look better,” she said, tone flat but eyes softer. “You’re even walking like someone who slept.”

“I did,” Chris replied, tugging at his sleeves. “And before you ask, yes, I plan to eat something solid, without threats or bribes.”

Across the table, Rowan glanced up from the morning reports, an amused glint in his eyes. “Miracle of the century. Should we alert the court physician?”

“Alert the entire kingdom,” Nadia muttered. “If His Majesty’s omega eats breakfast willingly, the world might finally know peace.”

Chris rolled his eyes but reached for a piece of warm bread anyway. “I’m beginning to think you both only tolerate me for the entertainment value.”

Rowan leaned back, smirking. “It’s part of the contract. You irritate us; we pretend to scold you; Nadia secretly keeps you alive; balance is maintained.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Chris, a sound that came out easier than he expected. The morning was unhurried and ordinary. They spoke about nothing of consequence: Rowan’s endless security paperwork, a cat that had somehow taken residence in the courtyard, and the new court musicians who apparently couldn’t tell the difference between Palatine and Sahan compositions. For a moment, the world outside ceased to matter.

When he finally returned to his and Dax’s quarters, the quiet that greeted him wasn’t wrong, exactly. Just different.

The room had been cleaned, polished, and arranged with the same precision as always. But something in the air felt off, a subtle rearrangement that tugged at instinct rather than logic. He crossed the room slowly, his gaze moving from the couch to the writing desk to the low shelf near the window.

And then he saw it.

Some of his books were missing.

Not all, not even most, but the ones that mattered. His old Palatine texts on civil engineering, the collection of field sketches from his academy days, and the worn manual he kept annotated with messy notes. The shelf looked too tidy, the gaps disguised by a vase and an unfamiliar gilded box that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday.

He frowned, scanning the rest of the room. A few other things were gone too, the soft cashmere throw from Palatine, the small set of silver tools Dax had given him when he’d started sketching again, and a paperweight from his old desk. In their place were new items, elegant and unmistakably Sahan: deep violet fabrics, angular brass accents, and heavy wood polished to a mirror finish.

But there was nothing he would use there; everything was decorative.

“Nadia?” he called, stepping toward the door.

She appeared almost instantly, ever the sentinel, wiping her hands on a folded cloth. “You called?”

“Did someone come in here?” he asked. “Some of my things are missing.”

Before she could answer, a figure appeared in the doorway behind her, Hanna, carrying a leather folio and a polite, fixed smile.

“Your Grace,” she said, bowing lightly. “Forgive the intrusion. His Majesty’s orders came in this morning; I was told to begin the suite update immediately.”

Chris blinked. “Update?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She offered a folder sealed with Dax’s crest. “The King ordered new furnishings and wardrobe replacements to reflect your position. A gesture of respect, I was told. Some older items have been moved to storage.”

Nadia entered a heartbeat later, eyes sharp. “Moved? Without notice?”

Hanna smiled, perfectly polite. “All properly documented, I assure you. Here are the serial and delivery records. The King’s own seal, and Chief Steward Killian’s countersignature.”

The paperwork was immaculate. Each order bore Dax’s authorization code, precise down to the last stroke.

Chris quickly flipped through the pages, noting that the handwriting matched Dax’s. The signature was his. The justification column read: To align suite aesthetics with the Sahan royal standard; to ensure comfort and parity of residence.

That sounded like Dax. It looked like Dax. But Dax would have told him.

’What the actual fuck? Why wouldn’t he tell me?’

He looked around their room again, at the bed they shared, now covered with new sheets in imperial violet instead of the soft gray ones Dax had liked. Their bookshelves reorganized. The air smelled faintly of foreign incense.

Something in him faltered.

“I don’t remember him mentioning this,” Chris said quietly.

“He wanted it to be a surprise,” Hanna replied smoothly. “His Majesty insisted you should have nothing less than royal luxury. He said, ” she hesitated for effect, “that no one should mistake you for a guest in his bed.”

The phrasing made Nadia’s brows lift slightly. “Conveniently poetic for an order written by him,” she said dryly.

Chris gave a humorless laugh, more air than sound. “Right. A surprise.” He handed back the papers, though his fingers lingered on them. “Thank you, Hanna. That’ll be all.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” She bowed again and withdrew.

The door clicked shut behind her and for a while neither Nadia nor Chris said anything.

“I will check with Rowan if the order exists, but given the documentation she had with her…” Nadia hesitated.

“Thank you. Dax seemed tired on the phone; maybe he just forgot to tell me about it. He has to deal with the clergy and his ministers.”

Nadia was quiet for a moment, scanning his expression. “If the order’s signed by him, it’s probably legitimate,” she said finally, keeping her tone neutral. “He’s… known for doing things like this sometimes. Sudden decisions. Big gestures.”

Chris blinked, half skeptical. “You mean redecorating a room while someone’s out for breakfast?”

Nadia gave a faint shrug. “When you rule half the country, you don’t always stop to warn people first. From what I’ve seen, His Majesty prefers action over discussion.”

That sounded right, plausible, at least. Dax had that kind of presence: direct, commanding, and impatient with details. The man who made things happen because he couldn’t stand waiting.

Still, Chris couldn’t shake the small knot forming behind his ribs. They had known each other for barely a month. Half of that time Dax had spent buried under reports and state meetings; the other half had been a blur of sudden tenderness and missed dinners. He didn’t really know what Dax might or might not do when he was gone.

“Maybe you’re right,” Chris said quietly. “He’s been buried under deadlines since the fiscal cycle will close soon. This could just be something he planned weeks ago.”

“Exactly,” Nadia said, more gently now. “He probably wanted to surprise you or to make things look… more official.”

“Official,” Chris repeated, the word landing heavier than she probably meant it.

Nadia seemed to sense it but didn’t push. “Don’t worry too much. I’ll have the staff double-check where your books went. They’ll turn up. Nothing disappears in this palace without a paper trail.”

Chris nodded, even though his thoughts were already drifting. “Thanks.”

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