Chapter 162: Chapter 162: Foolish nobles and children (1)

Adam’s expression eased, relief slipping in like air after a storm. “Always,” he replied, voice warm. “He doesn’t negotiate. He declares.”

Max beamed as if he’d been praised for breeding. “He gets that from me. It’s hereditary.”

Adam didn’t even look at him. “He gets it from your inability to accept the concept of waiting.”

Max put a hand to his chest, wounded. “I wait all the time.”

“You waited five seconds before walking over here,” Adam said, calm and unyielding.

“That’s growth,” Max insisted.

Gregoris made a sound that could have been a laugh if it had been anyone else.

Noah, apparently satisfied that his intentions had been noticed, tugged at Adam’s hand harder, nearly pulling himself off balance. His gaze didn’t leave Natalie. A child saw another child and decided it was now his business.

Rafael’s tone stayed light, but his eyes were sharp. “May he greet her?”

Adam looked at Rafael in the quiet, direct way that asked permission without performing it. “If you allow it.”

Gregoris’ gaze narrowed, instinctively and unfairly, because Gregoris disliked anyone near Natalie on principle.

Rafael didn’t look at Gregoris. He didn’t need to. He already felt the presence at his shoulder like a wall.

“You may,” Rafael said softly. “With you holding him.”

Max lifted a brow. “Not me?”

Rafael’s voice didn’t change. “Not you.”

Max laughed under his breath, delighted. “Fair.”

Adam guided Noah forward with calm control, one hand holding his, the other ready to catch him if he stumbled. Noah toddled with determined seriousness, as if he were approaching a diplomatic summit rather than an infant with excellent lungs and a tendency to grab.

Natalie noticed the movement immediately.

Her focus snapped in, bright and sharp, as if she’d been waiting for the only thing in this hall that wasn’t pretending. She leaned forward in Gabriel’s arms, making a small, excited sound that was part squeak and part challenge.

Gabriel’s gaze lifted. He took in Noah, Adam’s steady hold, Rafael’s posture, and Gregoris’ dangerous stillness, and his mouth twitched with contained amusement.

“Careful,” Gabriel said mildly. “She bites.”

Max leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “Noah bites too. It’ll be diplomatic.”

Adam’s voice stayed gentle. “Noah does not bite.”

Max’s green eyes gleamed. “Not in public.”

Adam didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply guided Noah the last step closer.

Noah lifted his free hand slowly, fingers opening and closing with the solemn intent of a child offering peace. Natalie stared back with the exact same solemnity, her own hand rising, smaller but faster, the movement less polite and more possessive.

Their fingers brushed.

Noah made a delighted noise, bright and unfiltered.

Natalie answered with a sharp squeak of triumph and immediately attempted to grab his sleeve like she’d decided ownership was the correct foundation for friendship.

Adam eased Noah back half a step before Natalie could commit theft in front of half the court, but he did it without yanking, just with control.

Gabriel laughed under his breath, warm and unguarded.

A few nobles nearby visibly softened, then caught themselves and rearranged their faces into neutrality like men who remembered where they were.

Rafael watched the children with a quiet exhale he hadn’t realized he was holding.

It wasn’t safe. Court was never safe.

But it was… honest. A moment with no subtext other than the obvious: small humans recognize each other.

Noah leaned forward again, undeterred.

Natalie leaned forward too, eager.

The second attempt ended with Noah patting Natalie’s cloak and Natalie grabbing Noah’s fingers with a grip that was too strong for her size.

Noah giggled.

Natalie squeaked, pleased.

Adam’s smile softened, real. “She’s strong.”

Rafael’s answer was immediate, soft but unshakable. “She knows what she wants.”

Max looked delighted, as if this was the best entertainment the Empire had offered him all month. “See? She’s one of us.”

“She’s seven months old,” Rafael reminded him.

Max shrugged. “So is Noah’s patience. It’s equal.”

Gregoris’ gaze stayed on Noah and Natalie, not hostile but watchful, as if trying to decide whether this tiny boy was a potential ally or simply a future headache.

Then, as if the palace had decided the scene needed one more thread pulled, Rafael’s eyes lifted past Adam’s shoulder and swept the hall.

He was searching without meaning to.

Because the palace had a rhythm, and certain presences always moved through it like predictable storms.

Arik should have been here.

Arik was two and a half, and he was the type of child who regarded the court as his personal domain.

Rafael’s brows knit slightly.

He leaned closer to Gabriel, just enough that the question wouldn’t become public.

“Where’s Arik?” Rafael asked softly.

Gabriel’s expression shifted from fond to resigned. “With Alexandra,” he replied, as if that explained everything and also warned Rafael not to expect peace.

Max’s grin brightened. “Oh, good. So the real chaos is en route.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to him, dry. “How is that ’good’?”

Max’s tone was cheerful. “Because Arik is the only toddler in this palace who can out-crime me with pure confidence and no shame.”

Gregoris’ gaze slid to Max. “Don’t teach him anything.”

Max held up his hands. “I would never. He learns naturally.”

Rafael’s mouth curved faintly despite himself. “That’s what worries me.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, the Empress’s mild voice sharpening at the edges. “About Natalie. About you. About whether a child of House Alamina ’changes the balance.’”

He adjusted Natalie again, because she had decided Noah’s sleeve was the most urgent political matter in the room, and continued with a calm that was only possible because he’d already filed three mental lists of names.

“There are already speculations,” Gabriel said, dry enough to cut, “that we want to marry Natalie and Arik.”

For half a heartbeat, the words didn’t land.

Then they did, and Rafael felt it like the click of a trap he’d been watching from a distance.

His expression stayed composed because court required it, because survival required it, and because he refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing his pulse jump.

But his fingers tightened once, reflexively, on the edge of Natalie’s cloak where it rested against Gabriel’s forearm.

“Arik is two,” Rafael said softly.

Gabriel’s mouth twitched, humorless. “And Natalie is seven months. Their minds are truly inspirational.”

Max made a delighted sound, as if someone had just offered him dessert.

“You can’t be serious,” Adam murmured, but his blue eyes had sharpened, tracking the nearest listeners, the nearest mouths that would repeat the rumor, and the nearest people who would twist it into something useful.

“They are serious,” Gregoris said, voice flat.

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