Chapter 164: Chapter 164: Foolish nobles and children (3)

Alexandra’s smile was elegant and vicious. “For future alliances.”

Adam stared. “He is two.”

“Yes,” Alexandra said. “I informed her that at present His Highness’s strongest preference is for sweet honey buns, being carried, and throwing a wooden horse at anyone who takes the first two away.”

Arik, now directly in front of Gabriel, looked up with both hands raised higher. “Papa, up.”

Gabriel crouched, his whole presence shifting to meet him, and lifted him with practiced ease. Arik immediately wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s neck and leaned in with the fierce certainty of a child claiming what was his.

Then Arik noticed the baby cluster.

He pulled back, golden eyes narrowing in open curiosity at Natalie first, then Noah.

“Baby,” he declared, pointing at Natalie.

Natalie stared back from Rafael’s arms, then made an indignant sound and grabbed for the pointing finger.

Arik looked at his own captured finger, deeply offended by this development.

“No,” he informed her, with imperial gravity.

Rafael made a strangled noise and looked away like he might laugh himself into disgrace.

Gregoris’s expression did not change, but his hand tightened once at Rafael’s waist.

Alexandra turned her head slightly, and the nobles nearest them – those who had lingered just close enough to hear, just far enough to deny it – straightened as if she had physically touched the backs of their necks.

Her smile remained.

“Since everyone seems so invested in children tonight,” she said, voice clear enough to carry a little farther than politeness strictly required, “let me save the room some effort.”

The nearby conversations began to thin again.

Alexandra’s gaze moved over them, cool and bright.

“Prince Arik is two and a half years old. Lady Natalie Frasner is an infant. Lord Noah is a child, not a treaty. None of them are bargaining chips for your entertainment, your family ambitions, or your bored little predictions.” She paused, still smiling. “If any of you are confused on the matter, I can repeat it more slowly.”

Silence.

Max looked almost proud.

Gabriel, still holding Arik, angled his head toward Alexandra in a small gesture of thanks that would go unnoticed by most and understood perfectly by the people who mattered.

Arik, meanwhile, had reached the age where political statements meant nothing and sleeves meant everything.

He patted Gabriel’s shoulder, then twisted to look at Max.

“Unca Max.”

Max’s face changed so quickly it would have been funny if it weren’t so telling.

The menace vanished.

“Yes, terror?” Max said, stepping closer.

Arik leaned toward him with trust so absolute it made several nearby nobles suddenly remember that this family was not built only on titles and rumors, but on bonds they could neither predict nor manipulate.

Arik pointed at Noah this time.

“Baby.”

Max followed the direction of the tiny finger and looked at his son in Adam’s arms. For a moment, his expression went very still, almost unreadable, and then it eased into something quieter.

“Yes,” he said, voice lower now. “That’s my baby.”

Arik considered this information seriously, then looked back at Natalie.

“Two baby,” he concluded.

Adam laughed softly, unable to help it.

Rafael gave in and laughed too, Natalie still in his arms, Gregoris standing like a wall at his side while the sharpness in the group loosened at the edges.

Gabriel pressed a kiss to Arik’s hair, eyes lifting briefly to scan the room, cold again where they needed to be, warm only here.

“Two babies,” he agreed.

—

Pale light ran under the molding in a clean silver-blue thread, the warded panels humming low as the palace grid adjusted access layers for an incoming imperial signature. The mechanism was too expensive for theatrics that crude.

They parted smoothly instead, old dark wood and etched metal moving on silent rails while a faint wash of colder air touched the room.

And Damian stepped back in from the adjoining council corridor with two nobles still trailing half a pace behind him like men who had only just remembered what fear felt like.

He was still dressed in formal court black, with a severe cut that made him appear taller, broader, and sharper; the gold lines on the collar and cuffs caught the hall light in thin, disciplined flashes. A faint sheen of ether dust clung to one sleeve, most likely from the ward-map console in the strategy antechamber, and his expression was calm and lethal, as if someone had tried to be clever in front of him and regretted it.

The nobles behind him looked composed in the way men look composed after surviving a storm by not speaking.

Damian took two steps into the hall before he registered the cluster near Gabriel.

His gaze moved once.

Gabriel with Arik in his arms.

Alexandra was standing at their side, smiling like a knife in silk.

Rafael holding Natalie.

Gregoris at Rafael’s waist.

Adam with Noah.

Max was too close to pleasant to be harmless.

A ring of nobles nearby pretending they had not, in fact, been discussing infant diplomatic futures five minutes earlier.

Damian stopped, and the two men behind him nearly walked into his back.

The change in him was small and immediate and devastating to witness if someone knew him.

The Emperor remained.

The father appeared.

His golden eyes settled on Arik first.

Arik, who had been halfway through inspecting the embroidery at Gabriel’s shoulder with all the focus of a scholar and none of the reverence, looked up – and lit up so fast the room might as well have dimmed around him.

“Papa!”

It came out louder than before, because this was the second ’papa’ and therefore apparently required volume.

Damian’s mouth moved into a smile before anyone else in the room had processed the sound.

He completed the remaining distance without haste.

The nobles behind him stopped where they were, abruptly uncertain whether they were dismissed, forgotten, or simply too irrelevant to matter in the moment. None of those options comforted them.

Gabriel watched Damian approach, and the cool line of his posture shifted by a degree only people who loved him would notice.

“You’re back early,” Gabriel said.

Damian’s gaze flicked over Gabriel’s face once, a silent check that had become reflex after too many crises, then settled briefly on Arik’s hand fisted in Gabriel’s collar.

“The discussion improved when I informed them I had other priorities,” Damian said, voice even.

Max snorted. “Translation: they wasted your time.”

One of the lingering nobles in earshot visibly regretted having ears.

Damian did not look away from Arik. “Yes.”

Arik, having decided that the reunion was being handled too slowly by the adults, leaned out of Gabriel’s arms toward Damian with reckless confidence and both hands open.

“Papa. Up too.”

Gabriel huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re already up.”

Arik twisted to look at him, offended by this technicality. “Other papa.”

The corners of Gabriel’s mouth twitched. “Ah. Of course.”

Damian reached out then, one hand bracing Arik’s back, the other under his legs, and transferred him from Gabriel’s arms to his own with the ease of long practice. Arik settled against him immediately, his small body fitting against hard lines and formal tailoring as if he had always known exactly where he belonged.

The contrast was indecent.

The emperor, who could freeze a council room by lowering his voice a fraction, now standing with a toddler on his hip while the child patted his chest and announced, with deep satisfaction, “Both papa.”

Something warm and private flashed across Gabriel’s face before he smoothed it away.

Alexandra, because she had no fear of death and an excellent eye for timing, inclined her head. “Your Majesty.”

Damian looked at her, then at the nobles hovering near the edge of the group like decorative threats.

“Alexandra,” he said. His gaze sharpened by a degree. “I take it the hall entertained itself while I was occupied.”

Alexandra’s smile turned brighter. “With exceptional stupidity.”

Max, now openly enjoying himself again, added, “They were pre-engaging the children.”

Damian went still in a way that made three nearby conversations die without warning.

He looked at Max.

Then at Noah in Adam’s arms.

At Natalie in Rafael’s.

At Arik against his shoulder.

When he spoke, his tone was calm enough to make the words worse.

“Were they.”

It was not a question.

One of the nobles to the side – a viscount with more confidence than judgment – attempted a fragile laugh. “Merely harmless speculation, Your Majesty. Court chatter, nothing more—”

Damian turned his head.

That was all.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep