Chapter 168: Chapter 168: Powerless
Rex let out a long breath after George’s corpse was removed and allowed himself to fall into the chair at the head of the table.
For a moment, he simply stared at the polished mahogany, at the place where his father’s body had been, and at the faint trace the attendants had failed to erase before leaving the room with pale faces and an order to remove the table for good after the royals left.
Mezos stood near the door, one hand resting loosely over the communicator at his wrist.
Eight years older than both Rex and Arik, with the calm, he had the unreadable posture of a man who had spent too many years standing between dangerous people and worse decisions while looking mildly displeased by the disorder left behind.
"Lower holding has confirmed Ray Canmore’s isolation," he said. "No visitors. No outgoing channels. No private legal access until reviewed by the crown."
Rex turned his head slowly. "Good morning to you too, Mezos."
Mezos’s expression did not change. "It is no longer morning, Your Majesty."
Rex stared at him.
Arik, standing in front of the windows, glanced down at the watch on his wrist.
"Barely."
Rex looked at him next.
"Arik," he said, voice flat with exhaustion, "couldn’t you wait until after your engagement party?"
"No," Arik said. "I want to take Liam from his suit fitting and return for dinner. George and Ray were making that impossible with their chattering."
There was a short silence.
Mezos lowered his eyes briefly, not quite enough to hide the faintest sign of amusement.
Rex pointed at him. "This is your fault."
Mezos raised a deep red brow, his blue eyes almost politely amused. "No, Your Majesty. I am here for his security."
He tilted his head toward Arik, the gesture restrained enough to pass as professional and familiar enough to be insulting.
"George was between him and his mate," Mezos said. "Be grateful he did not burn Wrohan. He likes you as a friend."
Rex stared at him.
Then he looked at Arik.
Arik did not deny it.
"I hate both of you," Rex said.
"That is understandable, Your Majesty," Mezos replied. "But not productive."
Rex leaned back in the chair that now belonged to him and shut his eyes.
The truly irritating thing was that he could not even call this betrayal.
Not honestly.
The plan had existed. Rex had agreed to it. Mezos had been present for most of the private discussions, standing in corners with that maddeningly calm expression while Rex spoke of protocols, evidence, pressure points, asset freezes, and the delicate timing required to remove a sitting king without giving Felix enough warning to drag Wrohan into open collapse.
They had discussed George’s removal, Ray’s detention, and the inevitable panic to lock Felix’s access points before he could reach Liam, the treaty, or the succession.
It had been a careful plan.
A brutal plan, yes.
A treasonous plan, depending on which historian survived long enough to write it.
But careful.
Then Ray had mentioned Liam.
And Arik had apparently decided that political patience was a disease that needed immediate treatment.
"You changed the timeline," Rex said.
"Yes," Arik replied.
"We had stages."
"They were slow."
"They were structured."
"Structured delay is still delay."
Mezos made a quiet sound that was not agreement.
Rex’s eyes opened.
Mezos straightened slightly, returning at once to neutral composure. "The assessment is not entirely incorrect, Your Majesty."
"You are his chief of security," Rex said. "You are supposed to prevent unnecessary incidents."
Mezos looked briefly toward the place where George’s corpse had been.
"With respect, Your Majesty, this incident was not unnecessary."
Rex’s mouth opened, then he changed his mind as Mezos was right.
Everything that had happened in that room had been monstrous, illegal, and politically catastrophic if looked at from the wrong angle.
From the correct angle, it had removed two of Felix’s pieces before lunch.
Rex hated correct angles.
"I killed Felix’s puppet."
"I mean, yes," Rex said, staring at the empty place on the table with a faint, dissatisfied frown. "But you could have made him suffer a little more."
Mezos, who had been standing near the door with the professional stillness of a man pretending he had not heard worse things over breakfast, lowered his gaze for a moment.
"Your Majesty..." he started.
Rex turned his head slowly. "Do not use that tone."
"What tone, Your Majesty?"
"That one."
Mezos’s expression remained perfectly respectful.
That was how Rex knew the mockery was intentional.
"The title is accurate," Mezos said.
"The title is five minutes old."
"Technically older. The succession transferred the moment George died."
Rex stared at him.
Mezos added, "Your Majesty."
Arik’s mouth curved faintly.
Rex pointed at him. "Do not enjoy this. You killed him too quickly."
"He was talking too much."
"He always talked too much. That was part of the problem." Rex leaned back in George’s former chair and looked again at the table. "I wanted him to understand."
The words quieted the room more effectively than anger would have.
Mezos did not answer immediately.
Arik’s expression changed, not softened, but sharpened in a different direction. He understood revenge. Of course he did. There was something ancient sitting beneath his skin that had waited half a century to look toward Felix and remember the shape of betrayal.
Rex tapped one finger against the arm of the chair.
"Not for long," he said. "I am not unreasonable."
Mezos raised one brow.
Rex ignored him.
"A minute would have been enough. Perhaps two. Long enough for my father to know that after all those years of making everyone else helpless, he had become the one thing he despised most."
"Powerless," Mezos said quietly.
Rex looked at him.
Mezos’s expression remained calm, but the mockery had thinned enough to leave something older beneath it. He had not lived in Wrohan’s palace. He had not grown up under George’s hand. But he knew enough about men like George to understand the shape of the wound.
"Yes," Rex said. "Powerless."
Arik tilted his head, a faint smile touching his mouth. "Do you want me to bring him back?"
Rex jolted so violently his hand struck the edge of the chair.
"For fuck’s sake, Arik. No!"
Mezos closed his eyes for one brief, suffering second.
Arik looked unbothered. "I can."
Rex stared at him in open disgust.
"Well," Arik added, as if correcting a technical detail in a report, "for another hour at best. And it would be for ten minutes at most."
"You are a monster," Rex said.
"I know how ether works."
"That is not a defense."
"It is an explanation."
"It explains too much."
Mezos opened his eyes again. "Arik."
Arik glanced at him.
The absence of title made Rex feel slightly better, mostly because it meant Mezos was genuinely displeased now and not merely performing obedience for the sake of irritating him.
"No," Mezos said.
Arik’s brows lifted. "I was offering."
"You were offering necromantic revenge therapy to a newly crowned king in the room where his father was assassinated."
Rex pointed at Mezos. "That. Exactly that. Thank you."
Mezos’s mouth barely moved. "You are welcome, Your Majesty."
Rex’s gratitude died immediately.
Arik looked between them with mild interest. "It would have been effective."
"It would have been disgusting," Rex said.
"Both can be true."
"No. In this case, disgusting wins."
Mezos adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with the controlled patience of a man mentally filing this entire conversation under incidents to never include in an official report. "From a security perspective, reviving George would complicate the witness narrative."
Rex turned his head slowly. "That is your objection?"
"It is the professional one, Your Majesty."
"And the personal one?"
Mezos looked at Arik.
Then at the empty place on the table.
Then back at Rex.
"The personal one is that if George returns to consciousness and starts speaking again, I may be forced to agree with Arik killing him a second time."
Rex stared at him.
Then, despite himself, he laughed.
It came out low and bitter, but it was real enough to loosen something in his chest.
"You are both terrible."
"Yes," Mezos said.
Arik glanced at his watch again. "Are we finished discussing George?"
Rex’s laughter stopped.
He looked at him flatly. "My father has been dead for less than an hour."
"And he is still wasting time."
Mezos inhaled once through his nose.
Rex narrowed his eyes. "That was nearly a laugh."
"It was restraint, Your Majesty."
"You are becoming very fond of that title."
"It has novelty value."
"It has trauma value."
"That too."
Arik’s gaze moved toward the door, and Rex could practically see Liam’s name forming behind his eyes like a gravitational event pulling all sense of priority into its orbit.
This man was down bad for Liam.
