Ru'unan watched the young dragon prince's face carefully, masking his own emotions behind centuries of diplomatic training. The scales along Kovax's jaw had darkened with emotion, his claws still embedded in the ornate table as he proclaimed he wouldn't force Ryaz to choose between him and Michael—even at the cost of his own life.

Such noble self-sacrifice. Such misguided chivalry.

"Come, my son," Ru'unan said, moving swiftly to Ryaz's side before anyone could respond to Kovax's declaration. "You need proper rest in our own quarters."

Ryaz blinked up at him, confusion crossing his features. "But we haven't finished discussing—"

"The discussions can wait until morning," Ru'unan interrupted gently, placing a steadying hand on Ryaz's elbow. "You've been through enough tonight."

Thaleus rose from his seat, his massive frame casting long shadows across the room. "Emperor Ru'unan is right. We should all take time to consider these matters with clear heads."

Kovax couldn't tear his eyes from Ryaz, the bond between them practically vibrating with need. Ru'unan noted the intensity of that gaze, the way the dragon's fingers flexed against the wood as if physically restraining himself from reaching out.

"I'll return your robe tomorrow," Ryaz said to Kovax, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"Keep it," Kovax replied, his voice rough with barely controlled emotion.

Ru'unan guided his son toward the door, nodding respectfully to the dragon king. "Until tomorrow, then."

The walk back to their suite was mercifully quiet, Ryaz leaning slightly against him for support. The fever had broken, and his son's natural color had returned, but exhaustion still hung heavy on his slender frame.

Once inside their private chambers, Ru'unan helped Ryaz to the plush sofa before the fireplace. His son sank into the cushions with a grateful sigh, the silk robe—Kovax's robe—pooling around him like liquid shadow.

"You look much improved," Ru'unan observed, taking a seat beside him. "How do you feel?"

"Better," Ryaz admitted, running a hand through his tousled copper hair. "The magic transfusion worked. I can feel my strength returning." He placed a protective hand over his abdomen. "And the baby feels... settled now. Not draining me anymore."

Ru'unan studied his son's face, searching for any sign of the bond Kovax felt so powerfully. "And Prince Kovax himself? What do you feel toward him?"

Ryaz's brow furrowed slightly, his lilac eyes—now flecked with green that hadn't been there before—turning thoughtful. "It's strange. When we're touching, there's a connection. Warmth. Comfort. Almost like recognition." He shook his head. "But when we're apart, like now, I feel nothing from him. Just the baby."

"Nothing at all?" Ru'unan pressed.

"No. Should I?" Ryaz looked confused. "He said something about a mate bond, but I don't think I feel what he described."

Ru'unan leaned back, considering this information carefully. "The fertility cycle might be interfering," he suggested. "It alters your hormones, your magical signature. And now with the pregnancy..." He paused, thinking through the implications. "How long is a typical Fae gestation period?"

"Ten months," Ryaz replied automatically. "Though the texts suggest a hybrid pregnancy might be different. Dragons gestate for..."

"Six months," Ru'unan supplied. "Though in their natural form, not humanoid."

They fell into a discussion of hybrid births documented through history, calculating possibilities. A Fae-dragon child might take anywhere from six to nine months to develop fully.

"So, six to nine months," Ryaz concluded, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the silk robe.

Ru'unan's mind raced behind his calm exterior. Six to nine months. Could Kovax survive that long without the bond being reciprocated? Lady Fyretouch had said months, perhaps years, depending on the dragon's strength. Kovax was young, powerful, a prince of his line. But the jealousy would eat at him, especially once he saw Ryaz with Michael...

"Father?" Ryaz's voice pulled him from his calculations. "What aren't you telling me?"

Ru'unan met his son's perceptive gaze, weighing his options. The truth would burden Ryaz with an impossible choice. Silence would leave his son unprepared for what might come. Neither path seemed right.

"I'm concerned about the political ramifications," he said instead, not quite a lie. "A dragon-Fae marriage is unprecedented. There will be resistance on both sides."

Ryaz seemed to accept this, though his eyes remained searching. "And Michael? What happens to him in all this?"

"That's what we were discussing when you joined us," Ru'unan said carefully. "The dragons are traditionally monogamous. Prince Kovax has agreed to try and accommodate our customs regarding political marriages, but it won't be easy for him."

"Because of the mate bond?" Ryaz asked.

"Yes," Ru'unan confirmed, relieved that his son understood at least part of the situation. "Dragon mate bonds are... intense. Possessive by nature."

Ryaz was silent for a moment, his expression troubled. "I can't give up Michael," he said finally, his voice soft but determined. "I won't. I love him."

Ru'unan nodded, his heart aching for his son's impossible situation. Michael was a good young man in many ways—caring, thoughtful, devoted to Ryaz. But he lacked his own power base, no nobility backing his name. His jealousy was a known quantity, a poor match for the extensive political network Ryaz would need to navigate as future emperor. For years, Michael had opposed the idea of multiple marriages, using Ryaz's own indecision to bring him around to his viewpoint.

There was a manipulative element to Michael that Kovax seemed to lack. The dragon's offer to sacrifice himself rather than force Ryaz to choose was evidence of that.

It seemed ironic that Michael might actually get what he fought for; Ryaz in a monogamous relationhip, however with things as they stand now, it may happen without him in the equation. But Ryaz loved Michael. And that, in the end, was what mattered most to a father.

"We'll find a solution," Ru'unan promised, though he had no idea what that solution might be. "For now, you need rest."

As Ru'unan was about to stand, the elevator chimed in the coridor, announcing a visitor. Moments later, Michael stepped into the living room, his expression darkening when he saw Ryaz curled on the sofa in Kovax's robe.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, strain evident in his voice. "I looked everywhere for you at the banquet." His tirade paused when he took in the prince's lack of apparell too. "What happened to your clothes?" A pool of dread started gnawing at his gut. 

Ru'unan rose smoothly to his feet, positioning himself slightly between Michael and his son. "There was a medical situation," he explained, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Prince Ryaz needed treatment."

Michael's eyes narrowed, taking in Ryaz's improved condition and the unmistakable dragon-silk robe. "Treatment," he repeated flatly. "From the dragons."

Ryaz sat up straighter, fatigue momentarily forgotten. "Michael, please. It's been a difficult night."

The tension in the room thickened, Michael's posture rigid with barely suppressed anger. Ru'unan watched him closely, noting the way his hands clenched at his sides, the slight tremble in his frame. There was something off about his reaction—something beyond normal concern or jealousy.

"Perhaps we should all retire for the evening," Ru'unan suggested, his tone gentle but firm. "We can discuss everything in the morning, when we've all had some rest."

Michael hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but Ryaz's exhausted appearance seemed to finally register. "Fine," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "But we will talk about this, Ryaz."

"Tomorrow," Ryaz agreed, offering a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

As Michael retreated to the bedroom, Ru'unan helped his son to his feet. "Will you be alright?" he asked quietly.

Ryaz nodded, though uncertainty clouded his features. "I just need sleep. Everything will make more sense in the morning."

Ru'unan watched his son follow Michael into the bedroom, doubt gnawing at him. He had agreed not to tell Ryaz about the potentially fatal consequences of the unreciprocated mate bond, respecting Kovax's wishes. But if the bond was simply hidden or delayed in Ryaz due to the pregnancy, his son needed to be prepared for what might happen when it fully manifested.

He would wait, he decided. Wait until they returned to Faeland after the Renewal of the Accords concluded. By then, perhaps, they would have more answers. More options.

For now, he would keep his counsel and watch. Watch his son. Watch the dragon prince. And most importantly, watch Michael, whose reaction tonight had triggered centuries-old instincts that something wasn't quite right.

Ru'unan moved to the window, gazing out at the glittering lights of Central Concordia. The city slept on, unaware of the life-and-death drama unfolding in its midst. Unaware that the peace between their races might hang on something as fragile and unpredictable as a heart's capacity to love more than one person at once.