Chapter 101: Chapter 101: Lemon

The palace looked the same from the outside, with pale stone, glass-reinforced angles, and ether wards laid so neatly into the architecture they’d become part of the Empire’s aesthetic. From the inside, it felt different lately.

Calmer.

Not safe, Rafael wasn’t sentimental, but calmer in the way a place became when the year’s catastrophes had already had their feast and moved on. The floors still hummed with the ether grid beneath. Guards still watched everything. But the alarms had quieted. The corridors no longer carried that tight, hunted urgency.

Routine, the palace pretended, as if it was brave enough to believe in it.

Rafael passed through security with the kind of efficiency that came from being repeatedly searched by people who knew exactly who he was and still refused to be sloppy. His folder was scanned, his biometrics verified, and his presence logged. He kept his expression pleasant enough to be civil and sharp enough to discourage conversation.

He was here for signatures.

He was also four months pregnant, which meant his body had taken it upon itself to sabotage him in the most undignified way possible, and he had exactly zero patience left for being treated like a delicate noble ornament.

Gabriel’s wing opened into warmth.

Nothing ceremonial like other nobles did. Warm in a way that came from lived-in space: clean fabric, milk, faint baby soap, and the quiet reality that there was a child here who didn’t care about the Empire’s schedule.

Gabriel was on the sofa, one leg tucked under him, a tablet near his knee. He looked… functional today, which in itself was a victory, considering how much his pregnancy had tried to break him. His posture was relaxed, but there was a constant vigilance in the way his free hand rested, like he could soothe and stab in the same motion if needed.

Arik was in his arms.

Seven months old and already an insult to the concept of “just a baby.” Round cheeks, dark hair that refused to behave, and eyes that were far too focused for someone who still thought toes were a philosophical discovery.

The moment Arik saw Rafael, his entire face brightened.

He made a delighted sound that was not quite a laugh, not quite a war cry, and then he reached out immediately with his arms extended, fingers opening and closing with urgent insistence.

Rafael stopped in the doorway, deadpan. “No.”

Arik leaned forward, determined, like Rafael’s refusal was a minor obstacle the universe would correct.

Gabriel looked up and smiled with the sort of satisfaction that suggested he lived for this. “He likes you.”

“He has poor judgment,” Rafael replied, moving closer anyway, because lying to himself had never been his strongest talent. “It’s a known flaw.”

Arik grabbed at Rafael’s sleeve with both hands the moment Rafael was within reach, clutching like he was securing a treaty. For a second, just a second, his gaze landed on Rafael’s face with a stillness that didn’t match his age, an old, measuring focus that would have unnerved anyone who didn’t already know.

Rafael didn’t flinch.

He only tilted his head slightly, the smallest acknowledgment offered to the child who was not simply a child.

Arik blinked at him, solemn, then immediately tried to eat Rafael’s cuff.

There. Baby again.

Gabriel watched the exchange with quiet amusement, but his eyes sharpened for half a beat, checking what Rafael saw and what he didn’t say. The wards in this wing weren’t just for show.

Rafael set the folder on the low table and exhaled as if he’d been carrying more than paper. “I need your signature on three things before the ministries decide to start haunting my manor out of boredom.”

Gabriel reached for the folder with his free hand and didn’t miss a beat. “That’s what they do. When there’s no crisis, they create one.”

“Tell me about it,” Rafael muttered. “I’m working from home, and they act like it’s a personal insult.”

Gabriel flipped the first page, scanning quickly. “It is a personal insult. They miss being able to corner you in hallways.”

Rafael made a faint sound of agreement, then watched Gabriel sign with the biometrically inked stylus. The seal flared faintly, ether-reactive, with imperial authentication.

Arik, meanwhile, had decided Rafael’s sleeve was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Rafael stared down at him. “You’ve met me a dozen times. Why do you always act like this is the first?”

Arik’s response was to grab Rafael’s other sleeve too, as if doubling down.

Gabriel’s mouth curved. “Because you react. He enjoys that.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me your son is just like you.”

Gabriel’s expression went perfectly innocent. “He’s nothing like me.”

Arik chose that moment to glare at the folder like it had offended him.

Rafael’s brows lifted slightly. “That look is… familiar.”

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately. He just signed another page, calm and smooth, like he hadn’t heard the implication. Then, without looking up, he said softly, “We don’t comment on that look in unsecured corridors.”

Rafael’s mouth twitched. “We’re in your wing.”

“And,” Gabriel murmured, “I still refuse to tempt fate.”

Fair.

Rafael shifted his weight carefully, aware of his stomach in the way he was always aware of it lately, like a temperamental animal that could lash out if provoked. He glanced at Gabriel, then at the baby, then back. “Does it ever stop?”

Gabriel didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. He lifted his eyes. “The nausea?”

“Yes,” Rafael said flatly. “The daily betrayal.”

Gabriel let out a breath that sounded like it had its own history. “For most people, it eases after the first trimester.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “But.”

Gabriel’s mouth curved, not amused, more like resigned. “But I was sick almost my entire pregnancy.”

Rafael’s tone softened despite his pride. “Because of… everything.”

Gabriel nodded once, small. The ether poisoning. The damage. The parasitic brand that had been carved into their lives like a curse with teeth. Removed, yes, but removal didn’t erase what it had done.

“I kept waiting for that mythical second-trimester glow,” Gabriel said dryly. “I got a second trimester where I could walk without seeing stars, and then I threw up on a minister because someone decided lemon water was ’refreshing.’”

Rafael blinked, horrified in a way that still managed to be offended on Gabriel’s behalf. “What? How? I’ve never heard of that!”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched. “Nobody did.”

Arik made a pleased little sound and patted Gabriel’s chest as if he, too, approved of the chaos.

Gabriel’s gaze slid away for half a second, just enough to be an answer without words. Then he looked back, expression smooth again, too smooth.

“I didn’t tell Damian,” he said, as if admitting a minor sin and not an act of high treason against an overprotective emperor.

Rafael stared. “You… why?”

“Because if I had,” Gabriel replied, voice perfectly calm, “Damian would have retired me to our wing like an injured dignitary and assigned two physicians, four guards, and a council memo to my stomach.”

Rafael let out a sharp, helpless laugh. “That is exactly what he would do.”

“He would’ve carried me,” Gabriel continued, deadpan. “Somewhere. Probably without asking. And then he would’ve declared citrus a national threat.”

Rafael covered his mouth, laughing harder. “You hid vomiting from the Emperor.”

“I concealed,” Gabriel corrected lightly, “an isolated incident.”

“You threw up on a minister.”

“An unfortunate diplomatic occurrence.”

Arik kicked his feet as if cheering.

Rafael lowered his hand, eyes bright with disbelief. “How did it not become a scandal?”

Gabriel leaned back, one arm secure around Arik, the other gesturing like he was presenting a case in court. “Because I threatened the ministry into compliance.”

Rafael blinked. “You threatened…”

“I had security scrub the corridor cameras,” Gabriel said, too casual, like this was a normal parenting technique. “I had my office send a memo about ’medical privacy and the dignified handling of gestational symptoms.’ I reminded the palace kitchen that if they put citrus within ten meters of me again, I would personally relocate their entire staff to an ether plant in the north for ’character building.’”

Rafael stared at him, impressed and scandalized. “That’s… excessive.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed with serene conviction. “It was merciful.”

Rafael’s laughter softened into something warmer, more personal. “And Damian never found out.”

Gabriel’s mouth curved, sharp and fond at once. “Damian suspects many things. He does not suspect the lemon war.”

Rafael shook his head slowly, still smiling. “You’re insane.”

Gabriel glanced down at Arik, who had started chewing thoughtfully on his own fist like a tiny philosopher. “I’m experienced,” he corrected. “Now how is your announcement going?”

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