Chapter : 1557

  "Assessment: Emotional instability due to stress," Rosa said from her chair. She was looking at the back of Lloyd's head. "Lloyd, you should sit down. Arguments increase cortisol levels."

  Faria whipped around to glare at Rosa. "Stop analyzing me! And stop telling him what to do! You don't even talk to him!"

  Rosa didn't blink. She didn't look at Faria. She continued to stare at Lloyd's back.

  "Your breathing is shallow, Lloyd," Rosa observed. "You are still injured. The mana drain from the summoning has not fully regenerated."

  "I am fine!" Lloyd snapped, spinning around to glare... at the bookshelf behind Rosa. "Everyone stop diagnosing me! I am not a patient. I am the Lord of this house!"

  "Then act like one," Amina said calmly. "Sit down, Lloyd. We need to talk about the future. Specifically, the geopolitical mess you have created."

  Lloyd sighed. He dragged his heavy office chair around the desk and collapsed into it. He felt the exhaustion seep into his bones.

  "Fine," Lloyd said. "Let's talk. But keep it short. I plan on being unconscious in ten minutes."

  "Ten minutes is insufficient for a strategic debriefing," Rosa stated.

  Lloyd gripped the armrests of his chair. "Amina. Please begin."

  Amina smiled. She enjoyed the chaos. It gave her leverage.

  "The Treaty of the North," Amina said. "You allied with Queen Seraphina. You committed Bethelham resources to a technology-sharing pact. Does your father know you gave away state secrets?"

  "He will know tomorrow," Lloyd said. "It was the price of the alliance. And it's not secrets. It's... obsolete tech. We have better things now."

  "And the marriage?" Amina asked. Her eyes glittered. "The rumor is that she offered you the crown."

  "She did," Lloyd said.

  "And?" Faria asked, holding her breath.

  "I said no," Lloyd said.

  "Why?" Rosa asked.

  The question cut through the room. It was simple. Direct.

  Lloyd looked at his desk. He looked at the grain of the wood.

  "Because I have responsibilities here," Lloyd said to the desk. "Unfinished business."

  "Is that what we are?" Faria asked quietly. "Business?"

  "You are... complications," Lloyd said, rubbing his temples. "Vital, loud, headache-inducing complications."

  "Correction," Rosa said. "We are variables. And you are bad at math."

  Lloyd’s head snapped up. He looked directly at her for the first time. Her eyes were cool, deep, and unreadable. She held his gaze. She didn't look away.

  "I am excellent at math," Lloyd hissed. "I calculated exactly what it would take to survive. And part of that calculation involved removing negative integers."

  It was a direct insult. A reference to the divorce. To her betrayal.

  Rosa didn't flinch. She didn't look hurt. She just nodded, as if he had confirmed a theory.

  "Calculations can be revised," Rosa said. "New data requires new formulas."

  "My formula is fine," Lloyd said icily. "It equals zero."

  "Zero is a starting point," Rosa countered.

  Faria looked between them. "Okay, stop it! Stop talking in math! It's weird and it's making my head hurt! Lloyd, are you staying or not?"

  "I am staying," Lloyd said. "I am home. This is my house. I'm not going anywhere."

  "Good," Faria said. "Then you have to deal with us. All of us."

  "I am aware," Lloyd groaned.

  "I have a proposal," Amina said, stepping into the breach. "Since Lloyd is clearly incapable of managing his own life, and since we all have... investments... in his future, I suggest a council."

  "A council?" Lloyd asked warily.

  "A Regency Council," Amina smiled. "For your heart. Until you are stable enough to make a rational decision."

  "I am perfectly rational!" Lloyd protested.

  "You tried to fight a demon god with a stick," Rosa said.

  "It was a sword!" Lloyd argued. "A magic sword!"

  "It was a sharp stick," Rosa maintained. "Inefficient."

  "She has a point," Faria admitted grudgingly. "You do stupid things when you're alone."

  "So," Amina concluded. "We will watch you. We will ensure you do not run away again. We will ensure you do not die. And we will ensure..." she glanced at the other two women, "...that no one takes an unfair advantage."

  "I agree," Faria said, crossing her arms. "No more secret trips."

  "Agreed," Rosa said to Lloyd. "I will monitor your perimeter."

  Lloyd looked at them. The Fire Artist. The Shadow Strategist. The Ice Queen.

  They had formed a union. A union dedicated to managing him.

  "This is my nightmare," Lloyd whispered. "I survived the Orchid House for this?"

  "You survived so you could come home," Jasmin’s voice came from the hallway. She had been listening at the door.

  Chapter : 1558

  Lloyd slumped in his chair. "Traitor."

  "Go to sleep, Lloyd," Amina said, standing up. "You look like you are about to pass out. We will discuss the details of your surrender tomorrow."

  "It's not a surrender," Lloyd mumbled, his eyes already drooping. "It's a... tactical pause."

  Faria walked over and kissed him on the forehead. It was quick, fierce. "I'm glad you're not dead, you idiot."

  Amina patted his shoulder. "Rest well, my political asset."

  They walked to the door.

  Rosa didn't move. She waited until the others were out.

  She walked to the desk. She reached out and adjusted the collar of his shirt, which was crooked. Her fingers brushed his neck. They were cold, but not freezing.

  "Sleep," Rosa commanded softly.

  "I'm not talking to you," Lloyd mumbled, his eyes closed.

  "I know," Rosa said. "You are listening. That is sufficient."

  She turned and walked out, closing the door softly behind her.

  Lloyd sat in the silence. He was home. He was safe. And he was completely, utterly surrounded.

  ----

  The silence in the study after the women left was heavy, but it was no longer charged with the electricity of confrontation. It was the heavy, suffocating silence of exhaustion. Lloyd remained in his chair, staring at the closed door. The wood grain seemed to swirl before his eyes.

  He was back. He had done the impossible. He had saved the children. He had secured the alliance.

  But the war in this room... the war of glances and silences and sharp words... that was a different kind of battlefield. One he wasn't equipped for.

  "I need a drink," Lloyd muttered.

  He stood up, his joints popping. His body remembered every bruise, every strain of the mana burnout. The adrenaline that had sustained him for days was gone, leaving him feeling like a hollow shell made of cracked porcelain.

  He walked to the side table where the decanter of brandy sat. He poured a glass. His hand shook slightly.

  He downed it. The burn was grounding.

  He thought about Rosa.

  She hadn't looked at the others. She hadn't engaged in their bickering. She had just looked at him. Like he was the only thing in the room that mattered.

  It was infuriating.

  "Why?" Lloyd asked the empty room. "Why now? After everything?"

  She had betrayed him. In his first life, she had killed him. In this life, she had sold him out to the devils. She had admitted it.

  And yet...

  He remembered the feeling of her hand on his neck. Cold. Steady. Possessive.

  "Zero is a starting point," she had said.

  "Zero is nothing," Lloyd argued with the ghost of her voice in his head. "Zero is the end."

  But was it?

  He poured another drink.

  He thought about Faria. Her fire. Her honesty. She was simple in a way that was refreshing. She liked him. She wanted him. She yelled at him because she was scared for him. There was no 4D chess with Faria. Just heat.

  And Amina. The partner. The equal. She saw the world the way he did—as a board to be played. She didn't want to save him; she wanted to use him, and she wanted him to use her. It was a cold, transactional kind of intimacy, but it was safe.

  "Three queens," Lloyd muttered. "And I'm the joker."

  He walked to the window. The estate was dark. He could see the lights of the barracks where Ken was likely cleaning his guns and pretending not to have feelings. He could see the faint glow from the East Wing, where Jasmin was tucking the children into real beds.

  He had built this. This safety. This sanctuary.

  But he felt like an intruder in his own home.

  "I should go to bed," he thought.

  But the idea of walking to his bedroom, the bedroom he had once shared with Rosa, felt impossible. It was too charged. Too full of memories of the cold war they had fought across the invisible line in the center of the room.

  He looked at the sofa in the corner of the study. It was velvet. It was lumpy. It was perfect.

  He grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He kicked off his boots.

  He lay down on the sofa. It was too short for him. His feet hung off the end.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Fitting," he thought. "The Lord of Ferrum, sleeping on a couch."

  He closed his eyes.

  Sleep didn't come immediately. His mind kept replaying the events of the last month. The Orchid House. The Chimera. The King's death. Seraphina’s proposal.

  Chapter : 1559

  Marry me.

  He could have said yes. He could have been King.

  "No," Lloyd whispered. "That wasn't my story."

  His story was here. In the mess. In the noise.

  He shifted, trying to get comfortable.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  Lloyd froze. "Go away," he groaned. "I'm asleep."

  The door opened anyway.

  It wasn't Rosa. It wasn't Faria.

  It was his mother. Duchess Milody.

  She stepped inside, carrying a small tray with a steaming mug and a plate of biscuits. She wore a dressing gown of blue silk. She looked elegant, calm, and terrifyingly perceptive.

  "I thought you might be hungry," Milody said.

  "I'm fine, Mother," Lloyd said, sitting up.

  "You are thin," she observed. "And you are sleeping on a sofa. Again."

  She set the tray on the desk. She sat in the chair Rosa had occupied earlier.

  "So," Milody said. "You survived."

  "I did."

  "And you saved the girl."

  "Yes."

  "And you accidentally got engaged to a Princess, divorced your wife who refuses to leave, and have a Marquess's daughter threatening to burn down the house."

  Lloyd buried his face in his hands. "Is there a question?"

  "No," Milody smiled. "Just an observation. You have had a busy month."

  She handed him the mug. It was hot chocolate. Rich, dark, and sweet.

  "Drink," she said.

  Lloyd took a sip. It tasted like childhood.

  "I saw them," Milody said. "The three of them. Leaving your study. They looked like generals leaving a peace conference where no one signed the treaty."

  "It's a mess, Mother," Lloyd admitted. "I don't know what to do."

  "You don't have to do anything right now," Milody said. "You are allowed to just... be."

  She looked at him.

  "I am proud of you, Lloyd," she said softly.

  Lloyd looked up. "Proud? I caused a diplomatic incident. I lied to father. I risked everything."

  "You acted with honor," Milody said. "You saved the innocent. That is what a Ferrum does. Your father... he shouted for an hour when he read the report. But then... then he went to the armory and polished his sword. He is proud too. He just doesn't know how to say it without growling."

  Lloyd smiled weakly. "He growls well."

  "He does," Milody agreed.

  She stood up. She smoothed his hair, a gesture she hadn't done since he was a child.

  "Rosa," Milody said. The name hung in the air.

  "I'm not talking to her," Lloyd said instantly. The wall came up.

  "I know," Milody said. "But she is talking to you. In her own way. She brought you water."

  "She brought me a headache."

  "She brought you sustenance," Milody corrected. "She is trying, Lloyd. She is broken, just like you. And she is trying to put the pieces back together in the dark."

  "She betrayed me," Lloyd whispered. The hurt was still there, raw and bleeding.

  "She betrayed a stranger," Milody said. "She saved the man she knows. Think about that."

  She walked to the door.

  "Sleep, my son. Tomorrow, the sun rises. And the war continues. But for tonight... you are safe."

  She left.

  Lloyd sat there, holding the hot chocolate.

  She betrayed a stranger. She saved the man she knows.

  It was a complex thought. Too complex for 2 AM.

  He finished the chocolate. He lay back down.

  The silence of the house settled around him. It wasn't the silence of the empty palace in Saber. It was the silence of a house that was full. Full of people. Full of problems. Full of life.

  Lloyd closed his eyes.

  "Okay," he whispered to the darkness. "I'm back."

  He drifted off.

  And for the first time in a month, he didn't dream of fire or cages or red eyes in the dark.

  He dreamed of a garden. A strange, chaotic garden.

  In the center was a block of ice. But the sun was shining on it. And inside the ice, something was moving. Something was trying to get out.

  And standing around it were three flowers. One purple. One red. One white.

  They were tangled together, their roots fighting for the same soil. But they were all growing.

  Lloyd slept. The Lion of the North was resting.

  But outside, in the dark, the world kept turning. The Curator was plotting. The Firefly Corporation was building.

  And in her room down the hall, Rosa Siddik sat by her window, looking at the moon. She touched her lips, remembering a ghost of a kiss that hadn't happened yet.

  "Zero," she whispered. "Zero is a starting point."

  She closed her eyes.

  "And I am very good at counting."

  Chapter : 1560

  The dust in the archives was the kind that didn’t just sit on surfaces; it seemed to hang in the air, judging you for disturbing its peace. It was a dry, heavy smell, like old paper and forgotten secrets. Lloyd Ferrum sat at a large wooden table, a stack of leather-bound books in front of him. He wasn't really reading them. He was staring at a page that detailed crop rotations from three hundred years ago, but his mind was thousands of miles away, back in the city of Saber, back in the heat and the noise and the anger of Altamira.

  He rubbed his eyes. The mission to rescue Risa had been a success. They had pulled it off. The bad guys were dead or neutralized, the girl was safe, and they had even managed to install a friendly queen on the throne. By all accounts, it was a victory that should be celebrated with wine and songs. But Lloyd didn't feel like celebrating. He felt like he had just walked through a sewer and was still trying to scrub the smell off his skin.

  The door to the archives creaked open. It wasn't a loud noise, but in the silence of the room, it sounded like a gunshot. Lloyd didn't jump. He just sighed, closed the book on crop rotations, and leaned back in his chair.

  "You know," Lloyd said without turning around, "sneaking up on a man who just spent weeks fighting assassins is a good way to get a book thrown at your head. And these books are heavy. They have metal corners. It would hurt."

  Jasmin stepped into the light of the glow-stones. She looked small. That was the first thing Lloyd noticed. She had always been small, of course—she was a handmaiden, not a warrior like Ken or a princess like Isabella—but today she looked fragile. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually bright eyes were clouded with something dark. She wasn't wearing her usual cheerful expression. She looked like someone who hadn't slept in days.

  "I wasn't trying to sneak, Master Lloyd," Jasmin said softly. Her voice echoed slightly in the large room. "I just... I knew you would be here. You always come here when you don't want to talk to people."

  Lloyd smirked. "You make me sound antisocial. I love people. I just prefer them when they aren't asking me difficult questions or trying to get me to plan a wedding." He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Sit down. You look like you're about to fall over. If you faint, I'll have to carry you, and my back is still sore from sleeping in carriages."

  Jasmin sat down. She didn't smile at his joke. She just stared at her hands, which were resting on the table. She looked at her fingers as if they belonged to someone else.

  "Master," she started, then stopped. She took a breath and tried again. "Lloyd. In Saber... when we were in the capital..."

  Lloyd watched her carefully. He knew what was coming. He had seen it in her eyes ever since they crossed the border back into Bethelham. She was a kind soul. She believed in the goodness of people. What she had seen in Altamira—the hatred, the vitriol, the sheer, unadulterated loathing directed at anyone from Bethelham—had shaken her to her core. It didn't fit into her worldview.

  "Spit it out, Jasmin," Lloyd said gently. "We've been through hell together. You don't need to filter your words with me."

  Jasmin looked up. Her eyes were wet. "Why do they hate us so much?"

  The question hung in the air. It was a simple question, five words, but it carried the weight of the entire world.

  "I mean," she continued, her voice trembling, "I understand politics. I understand that kings fight over land and resources. I get that. But this... this was different. The people in the streets, the shopkeepers, even the children... when they heard our accents, when they realized where we were from... it was like they were looking at monsters. It wasn't just anger. It was disgust. It was like we were a disease."

  She paused, wiping a tear from her cheek. "We saved them. We helped them. But even then, I could feel it. The hatred. It was so deep, Lloyd. It was personal. Why is this war so personal? Why do they hate the name Ferrum like it's a curse word?"