Chapter 79: Chapter 79: The Friend

Dean should’ve known Tyana wasn’t going to leave him alone after that.

Warm bread, roasted meat, something citrusy and sharp, and small plates that looked delicate and tasted like chefs were trained in the same way that Alamina trained soldiers.

Conversation moved around the table like a current, effortless and practiced, but not stiff. Otto asked Dean about school, as Trevor and Lucas usually did, and it made him realize how much he cared about Dean.

Minerva asked him whether he preferred tea or coffee with the air of a woman collecting data for future ambushes.

Ariana talked about Parliament like it was a living creature you had to outsmart, and Caroline listened more than she spoke, which made Dean more nervous than Tyana’s smiling chaos.

Arion sat beside him as if that was the only logical place to be, posture composed, attention flicking across the room out of habit, but his hand kept returning to Dean’s lower back whenever someone leaned too close, whenever laughter got louder, whenever Dean’s body tensed without permission.

It was irritating. It was also… grounding.

Dean took a sip of water, refocused on his plate, and tried very hard to pretend he wasn’t enjoying the fact that nobody here treated him like a spectacle.

Tyana ruined that immediately.

“So,” she said again, like the earlier exchange hadn’t already been enough entertainment for a century. “You brought a friend.”

Dean paused mid-bite and looked up. “I didn’t bring her. She followed me.”

Minerva’s eyes gleamed with interest that was entirely too pleased. “She pressed the alarm.”

Dean stared at Minerva. “Why do you know that?”

Minerva smiled sweetly. “The palace knows everything.”

Otto made a quiet sound that might’ve been a sigh. “Minerva.”

“I’m not judging,” Minerva said, still smiling. “I’m impressed.”

Tyana leaned forward with her elbows near her plate, chin propped on her hand, eyes bright like she’d found a new hobby. “No, because I need you to explain something to me,” she said. “How did Sylvia look at him… ” she tilted her head toward Arion with zero fear for her future, “and call him an asshole?”

Dean’s shoulders loosened in a way that felt dangerous. He could feel a laugh trying to surface, which was rude, because his pride was still bruised from being carried like contraband this morning.

Ariana’s gaze slid to Dean, calm and interested. “Is it true?”

Caroline, quietly, “Someone said ’red flag,’ too.”

Dean choked slightly, coughed once, and pointed at Arion with his fork because if he was going down, he was taking him with him. “Why are you looking at me like I did it?”

Arion’s eyes changed, one slow flicker of amusement that made Dean want to commit a crime. “You said it too.”

“You deserved it,” Dean muttered.

Tyana beamed. “So it’s true.”

Dean set his fork down carefully. “Sylvia is… Sylvia,” he said, like that was a complete explanation and the universe should accept it.

“Bring her with you next time,” Minerva said, amused glint sharp enough to qualify as a weapon.

Dean opened his mouth to refuse on instinct, but Ariana got there first, calm and careful the way she did everything.

“How do you know her?” Ariana asked. “Properly. Not ’she appeared and became inevitable.’”

Dean exhaled once, like he was paying taxes. “Public school,” he said. “We met when we were fourteen.”

Tyana’s brows lifted. “Public.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, public. Before anyone says anything… Palatine has them. Some of us are allowed to be normal in daylight. My fathers used Sebastian and me as incentives to improve educational quality.”

Otto made a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh.

Dean continued, because if he didn’t, Tyana would decorate the silence with chaos. “We didn’t even like each other at first. We ignored each other for years. Then we got stuck in the same class.”

Caroline’s gaze stayed on him, attentive. “And?”

“And Sylvia decided my existence was a personal challenge,” Dean said, deadpan. “She kept correcting me. Loudly. In front of everyone.”

Minerva’s smile softened with something that looked dangerously like fondness. “That is friendship.”

“That is harassment,” Dean corrected.

Tyana leaned forward again, delighted. “How did it go from harassment to loyalty?”

Dean’s eyes flicked briefly toward Arion, then away, because he refused to be psychoanalyzed in front of an imperial table. “She saw me fight back once,” he said. “And she respected it. Which is insane logic, but it’s hers.”

Arion had been quiet this whole time. Too quiet.

Dean felt it before he realized it: a subtle shift, like a change in pressure; possessive pheromones were easing out, like a warning that only certain bodies could detect.

Tyana’s eyes sparkled. Ariana’s mouth twitched like she had opinions. Minerva looked pleased in the way women look when they notice a man losing control in a socially acceptable format.

Dean’s shoulders tightened. “Don’t,” he muttered, mostly at Arion.

Arion didn’t look at him. He didn’t need to. The air answered for him.

Caroline, calm as ever, delivered the next question like a scalpel. “Did you date?”

Dean’s fork paused in midair.

Arion’s golden eyes lifted a fraction.

Dean set the fork down very carefully, because he liked living.

“Yes,” he said, because lying would be stupid and also because Sylvia would haunt him from another continent if he lied about her.

Arion’s pheromones thickened by a hair.

Tyana made a tiny, delighted sound like she’d just been handed a scandal.

Dean held up a hand immediately, palm out, like he was stopping a weapon from being fired. “Before anyone decides to commit violence…”

Arion’s gaze slid to him.

Dean continued, pointedly, “We were seventeen.”

“That was two years ago,” Arion said, and the way he said it made it sound like Dean had just confessed to eating the last pastry yesterday.

Dean sighed hard, long-suffering and honestly a little embarrassed, because he hated talking about it. It had been his first time asking someone out, and the memory still had the power to make his skin itch.

“We dated for an hour and a half,” Dean said flatly. “Technically it wasn’t even dating.”

The table went very still for the kind of beat that meant everyone was trying not to laugh out of respect.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep