Dax didn’t react with surprise. He didn’t snap or raise his voice. His expression didn’t change much at all. But something in the room settled into a quieter, steadier tension.
"Chris," he said, and there was nothing sharp in the name, just focus.
Chris stood there, shoulders tight, breathing a little unsteady from fatigue more than anger. He knew he had crossed a line, but he also didn’t have the energy to walk backwards from it.
"I’m not lying to you," Dax said. His tone remained level, almost measured. "I don’t say things I don’t mean."
Chris looked at him, tired and frustrated. "You say I won’t disappear, but it already feels like I am. I don’t speak the way I used to. I think before I say everything now. I watch myself all day. I don’t feel like I fit anywhere here."
Dax stood slowly, just standing to meet him on equal ground.
"You are tired," he said. "And the court has been pressing you without pause. That is what you are feeling. Not erasure."
Chris let out a small breath, not quite a laugh and not disbelief either. "Yeah... because I can do so many things I’ve done before. Tell me, Dax, what are you giving to this relationship? I lose myself, Christopher Malek, the Civil Engineer, to Christopher, King Dax’s omega."
Chris turned toward the door as he spoke, the words low and flat from fatigue rather than anger. "I thought I would be taught how to be on your ground and help or carry myself, but everyone wants your mate and Queen. Even you."
The room held still for a long moment.
Dax didn’t move at first. He gave the sentence space to ensure he didn’t answer from reflex.
When he did speak, his voice was steady.
"That is not correct."
"No?" Chris turned, raising his head so he could look Dax in the eyes. "Dax, you are far from being blind or stupid. The power imbalance between us is astounding and you did little to nothing to be on the same ground with me." He sighed. "I will do what I have to do, but not because I want it."
Dax’s jaw shifted, barely. A gesture made by a man who was used to not being questioned and who was choosing, purposefully, to listen instead of ending the conversation.
He walked around the table, simply closing the distance so that there was no furniture between them. He stopped at a conversational distance.
"You are right," Dax said, acknowledging Chris’s words. "There is a power imbalance. There always will be."
Chris held his stare. He did not back away.
"But do not mistake imbalance for neglect," Dax continued. "I did not ask you to come to me already adapted. I did not expect you to fit. I expected you to change the room when you entered it. You are not doing that right now." His tone didn’t sharpen. If anything, it steadied further. "You are trying to survive it instead."
Chris’s fingers tightened at his sides.
"And yes," Dax said, "I have not stepped down to meet you on your ground."
Chris’s breath hitched, his fists curling until his knuckles were white.
"But you did not fall into mine either," Dax added. "You were dragged into the court’s ground, not mine."
"Dax... We should close the discussion now." Chris said this time without any intention of backing down. "That or I will slap some sense into you."
Dax’s mouth thinned. The room tightened slightly, Dax’s pheromones creating the sensation of something closing in on itself.
"Do you think you can move faster than me?" he asked quietly. "You will not walk away from me in the middle of this conversation."
"So... I was right," Chris said, the laugh thin and exhausted. "Why don’t you take the last piece missing? What’s the point of pretending we’re a couple if you’re unwilling to meet me in the middle? What’s the point in pretending you care about me when you will leave me alone in the middle of your court?"
That was the moment Dax decided to move. He did not raise his voice; instead, he crossed the distance and placed his hands on Chris’ arms. There was no force behind it, but there was no space to retreat either. Chris’s breath stilled under the touch, more from surprise than resistance.
"Stop," Dax said, and there was no heat in the word. "Do not use that tone when you speak about what we are."
Chris tried to turn away, but that small shift was enough for Dax to hook an arm under his knees and lift him. Chris caught a breath, startled, hands reflexively pressing against Dax’s chest.
"I can walk," Chris muttered.
"I know," Dax replied without a hint of apology. "And you have been walking through this place with your jaw clenched for two weeks. I will not have this conversation while you are standing on your last nerve."
Chris pushed once, not with intention, just reflex. Dax did not tighten his grip, but neither did he let go.
"You think I do not notice the weight they place on you," Dax said as he carried him down the private corridor. "I do. I know exactly how much room the court takes to swallow a man whole. I forgot you were not raised to survive that. I thought that your feisty mouth was for everyone, not just me."
Chris escaped a chuckle at that. "Try that with the Death in heels, then talk."
"Death in heels?" Dax asked, raising a brow, glad that Chris’s mood shifted even a little.
"Cressida."
"Ah, yes, why didn’t I think of that?"
Chris let his head fall back against Dax’s shoulder, the smallest break in posture, something too tired to hide. "She’s terrifying," he said. "And she enjoys it."
Dax’s grip adjusted so he didn’t have to strain to carry him. "She is efficient," he corrected. "Terrifying is a side effect."
Chris huffed, a breath more than a laugh. "That’s one word for it."
They reached the private door to their suite. Dax didn’t set him down immediately. He paused for a moment to look at him.
"You are not alone in that court," Dax said. His voice didn’t shift tone and didn’t soften or grow intense. It remained straightforward as before. "But you do not yet know how to stand in it. That much is on me. I assumed your intelligence would translate quickly. I did not account for exhaustion."
Chris didn’t try to argue this time. "I feel like I’m being shaped instead of taught," he said quietly. "Like I’m being smoothed out until there’s nothing sharp left."
Dax answered without hesitation. "They are teaching you how to survive them, not how to use them." He tilted his head until his lips were on Chris’s temple. "You can argue with them, be demanding, or be unreasonable. What can they do?" Dax asked, chuckling against his temple. "Tell me? The man that adores you?"
"Right. I forgot about that."
Chris didn’t say it to deflect. He said it like someone remembering a fact they trust but haven’t had the energy to feel lately.
He shifted slightly, adjusting where his head rested against Dax’s shoulder. The exhaustion didn’t make him small, just more honest and blunt.
"Dax," he said after a moment, his voice soft but not fragile, just worn. "Can I talk back to Cressida?"