"My uncle thought…" he began.
Arik tightened his hold on Ilyan's hair just enough to make the words catch.
"I did not ask what your uncle thought," he said. "I asked whether he instructed you or whether you volunteered your own stupidity."
The omega swallowed.
Arik watched the movement of his throat with the same detached focus he might have brought to a report he already knew would end badly for someone else.
"He asked if I could help," Ilyan said at last. "Only that. He said the formal chain would delay things. He thought if the request came closer to you, more privately—"
"More privately," Arik repeated.
Ilyan heard the coldness in his words, his fingers barely tightening on Prince's shoulders.
Arik saw the exact moment the omega understood that he had not merely crossed a line. He had stepped on the only part of the arrangement Arik had ever required to remain clean.
Arik let go of his hair then, but only to take the omega off his lap.
