Chapter 151: Chapter 151: Children (2)

“For the love of any god…” Alexandra exhaled, defeated. “He is doing it out of spite, like his father.”

“Which one?” Gabriel asked, mild enough to be cruel.

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”

Gabriel’s expression didn’t change, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m not starting. I’m observing.”

“You’re observing with malicious intent,” Alexandra accused.

Rafael shifted Natalie higher against his chest, because the baby had decided her head belonged under his chin and nowhere else, and because this wing had a way of turning every conversation into a knife fight with silk gloves. “If it helps,” Rafael offered, “he looks like the type to spite people as a hobby.”

Alexandra made a wounded sound. “Thank you for your support, Rosenroth.”

“I’m not Rosenroth,” he said automatically, then remembered exactly where he was and who he was speaking to, and corrected himself with a tight smile that felt like swallowing glass. “I mean. Yes. I suppose I am.”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to him, amused, as if he’d filed that away for later.

Arik, bored by adult conversation, leaned forward and tried to grab Natalie’s blanket with the greedy curiosity of a child who believed the universe existed for his hands. Alexandra adjusted him immediately, patting his back like she was calming a small predator.

“No grabbing,” she warned. “That is not how we make friends.”

Arik ignored her and made an indignant noise.

Gabriel’s gaze lowered to Arik with that quiet, lethal fondness he had for children he claimed as his own responsibility. “Arik,” he said, oddly warm and stern at the same time.

The baby paused, as if his entire nervous system had been reminded the world did, in fact, contain consequences.

Then Arik stared at Gabriel and smiled.

It was the sweetest thing Rafael had ever seen in his life, and also the most terrifying, because it was the smile of someone who understood exactly how to manipulate a room.

Alexandra pointed at him, aghast. “See? That. That is exactly Damian. He does it like it’s diplomacy.”

Gabriel hummed, eyes still on the child. “Damian does it like it’s war.”

“Fine,” Alexandra snapped. “War. Diplomacy. Same cheekbones.”

Rafael couldn’t help it; his gaze flicked to Arik again. There was something unsettling about seeing the Emperor’s blood in such a small body – something that made the palace feel even more like a living organism, as if its future was already crawling around the furniture.

Natalie made a tiny sound, a soft hiccup of displeasure at the shifting air, and Rafael’s attention snapped back down immediately. He rocked her without thinking, the motion instinctive now, built from too many nights that blurred together.

Gabriel noticed.

“How is she?” he asked, and this time there was less teasing in his voice.

“She’s…” Rafael hesitated, because the truth was strange and tender, and he didn’t enjoy saying strange, tender things out loud. “Healthy. Loud when she wants to be. Quiet when she’s planning something.”

Alexandra’s eyes lit up. “Oh, she’s one of ours.”

Rafael looked at her flatly. “Do not recruit my daughter into your nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense,” Alexandra said, affronted. “It’s a lifestyle.”

Gabriel’s gaze moved over Natalie again with that calm, assessing gentleness that didn’t feel clinical, just… careful. “She’s small,” he observed.

Rafael’s spine went a fraction tighter. “She was born small.”

“I’m not criticizing,” Gabriel said, and it was quiet, but it carried that same infuriating resolve that made people confess things they didn’t intend to confess. His eyes remained on Natalie. “May I?”

Rafael blinked. “May you…?”

Gabriel lifted a hand slightly, palm open, the gesture so careful it almost looked like he was asking permission from the baby too. “Hold her.”

Rafael’s first instinct was an immediate, irrational refusal that made no sense. This was Gabriel. This was the Empress. This was the man the Empire leaned on when it couldn’t stand on its own spine. This was not a threat.

And yet Natalie was his, and his body didn’t care about logic.

Alexandra watched him with an expression that was far too entertained for the situation. “Oh,” she murmured. “He’s doing the thing.”

Rafael shot her a look. “What thing?”

“The thing where he pretends he’s fine,” Alexandra said, and smiled like a cat.

Gabriel didn’t react to either of them. He just waited, patient, like time belonged to him.

Rafael exhaled through his nose, adjusted his grip, and very carefully transferred Natalie.

He expected fussing. He expected a startled cry. He expected that thin, sharp panic babies had when the world changed hands too fast.

Natalie did none of it.

The moment Gabriel’s arms closed around her, the baby went still in a way that looked… deliberate. Her tiny hands flexed and then latched immediately onto the edge of Gabriel’s collar as if she’d just found the one stable object in the universe and intended to keep it.

Gabriel adjusted his hold with practiced ease, one arm supporting her head and shoulders, the other cradling her body close. His posture softened by half a degree, so subtle it would’ve been missed by anyone who didn’t know him well enough to see the cracks he didn’t like showing.

Natalie’s face pressed against the fabric at his throat. She inhaled once, slow and deep, like she was sampling him.

Then she settled.

Rafael stared.

Rafael stared harder.

He looked at his daughter like she’d personally betrayed him.

Natalie, traitor that she was, clung to Gabriel’s collar and made a satisfied little noise that sounded absurdly like approval.

Gabriel’s eyes flicked up briefly, amused. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You existed,” Rafael said, accusing.

Gabriel’s mouth curved faintly. “That tends to be my crime.”

“It’s also your hobby,” Alexandra muttered, still nursing her wounded pride like it was a national injury.

Gabriel ignored her with the ease of long practice, his attention on the tiny bundle now attached to him like a determined barnacle. Natalie’s fingers were threaded into his collar seam, knuckles pale with effort, as if she’d discovered that fabric was a form of power.

Rafael watched the scene unfold with the flat, offended stare of a man witnessing betrayal in real time.

Alexandra leaned in, squinting at Natalie’s grip. “Oh, look at that. She’s got taste. She found the most expensive collar in the entire empire and said, ’mine.’”

Rafael didn’t blink. “She’s one month old.”

“And already class-conscious,” Alexandra said brightly. “I’m so proud.”

Arik chose that moment to make an impatient sound, as if he didn’t appreciate being upstaged by a newborn. He reached for Gabriel’s sleeve – less out of jealousy and more out of the primal belief that everything in reach should be grabbed and tested for durability.

“Arik,” Gabriel said again, still warm, still stern.

The baby froze like a soldier who’d just heard the general clear his throat.

Gabriel didn’t change his tone. He didn’t raise his voice. He simply looked at him.

Arik blinked, then slowly withdrew his hand with exaggerated innocence, as if he’d never meant to touch anything in his life.

Alexandra hissed, offended on his behalf. “He’s a baby.”

“So is she,” Gabriel replied, glancing down at Natalie, who was now attempting to nuzzle into the hollow of his throat with the single-minded focus of a creature hunting comfort.

Rafael’s brow furrowed. “Why is she doing that?”

Gabriel’s gaze lifted to him, mild. “Because she’s comfortable.”

Rafael stared at Gabriel like that was personally insulting.

Alexandra’s eyes gleamed. “Because she likes his scent,” she said, with the glee of someone lighting a match near a powder keg. “Babies do that. They pick favorites. It’s biology.”

Rafael’s voice was perfectly calm, which was how Alexandra knew it was not calm at all. “She does not have favorites.”

Natalie tightened her grip on Gabriel’s collar.

Gabriel’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flickered with amusement again, brief and bright. “It appears she disagrees.”

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