Page 25 of Twist of Fate

“Acceptable,” Garzaxie declared, circling him with a critical eye. “Not ideal, but acceptable.”

“This feels like being kidnapped by a five-star hotel,” Luke muttered.

Garzaxie sniffed, clearly unimpressed. “You should be honored.”

That…did not help. Luke searched for help and caught the consort’s gaze as he lingered near the doorway. Cosmo crossed his arms and watched the preparations with the weary expression of a man who understood that this was a terrible idea but had already lost control of the situation.

As more hands followed the first round, this time aimed at his hair, Luke knew exactly what brought that expression onto the consort’s face. This all seemed inevitable and out of his hands. Someone pushed his hair back, someone else immediately undid that work, and then a third person adjusted it again as if they’d all come to slightly different conclusions about what Luke was supposed to look like.

He endured it with as much patience as he could manage, which wasn’t much.

Because something about this wasn’t sitting right.

At first glance, it felt chaotic—too many people moving at once, too many hands, too many decisions being made around him without his input. But the longer it went on, the more Luke realized there was nothing random about it. Every movement had a purpose. Every adjustment followed some internal logic he couldn’t quite comprehend.

They weren’t just fussing over him.

They were preparing him.

Luke stilled, his focus sharpening as he let himself really look at what was happening instead of reacting to it.

Garzaxie was directing the entire process with clipped efficiency, the attendants responding instantly without question. Cosmo sighed, clearly realizing there was no stopping the hobgoblin now. And Connal⁠—

Connal was watching, not confused or uncertain.

Proud.

That was the part that landed wrong.

Luke’s stomach tightened as the pieces began to fall into place. This wasn’t about feeding him or even hosting him. Not really.

“This isn’t just a meal, is it?” he asked, aiming for casual and not quite hitting it.

Garzaxie didn’t pause in his pacing. “Of course it is a meal. Do you think we would not mark such an occasion?”

Mark.

Luke’s attention caught on the word. “What occasion?”

Garzaxie stopped then, turning slowly with a sharp, satisfied smile. “Why, your arrival, of course.”

Right. That wasn’t ominous at all.

Luke exhaled slowly, forcing his pulse to settle, even as his thoughts began to align. Arrival. Preparation. Presentation. Yeah. That tracked.

Because this wasn’t hospitality, this was a debut. Suddenly, with uncomfortable clarity, Luke understood that he wasn’t leaving—not after this, not without changing the situation in a way he could control. His gaze slid back to Connal, who was still watching him with that same unwavering certainty, as if everything unfolding in the room was exactly as it should be.

There it was.

The problem.

And, if Luke played this right, the solution.

He straightened slightly, rolling his shoulders back as the attendants finally stepped away, apparently satisfied with whatever they’d done. The space around him cleared just enough for him to think.

What did Connal want?

Not a fight. That much was obvious.