Chapter 28: Chapter 28: Monday with cookies

Monday morning at the palace arrived like a slap.

Rafael walked in with the posture of a man who had slept three miserable hours and spent the rest of the night imagining creative ways to commit treason through homicide. His expression was flawless, but the aura around him? Lethal. Every secretary in the corridor parted like the sea before a holy plague.

He sat at his desk, opened a report, stared at it, and nearly stabbed the paper with his pen.

Gabriel looked up from his own table, brow lifting. “Rough weekend?”

Rafael didn’t answer. Silence was safer.

Alexandra drifted in like she was following the scent of gossip. She took one look at Rafael, paused, then whispered, “Gods. He looks like he crawled out of a crime scene.”

“Alexandra, for the love of God, not today.” Rafael managed to speak before putting his hands over his face.

“Why?” She asked, genuinely confused. “The outfit we and Gloria chose should’ve made Augustus fall onto his knees.”

Rafael let out a long breath, trying to gather whatever strength he still had. “Gregoris appreciated it more… And he threatened Augustus with blowing up his favorite ether car if he so much as approached the date location.”

Gabriel’s brows climbed. “Ah. An official Shadow threat.”

Rafael’s face hit the desk again with a soft, miserable thud. “He attached it to my weekend briefing.”

Alexandra blinked. “…Your what?”

“My weekend briefing, Alexandra. Because apparently I now receive reports about my own love life. Directly from the Shadow Department.” Rafael gestured vaguely at the air, like the gods themselves were being unreasonable. “Gregoris titled it: ’Status of Current Courting Interests.’ I thought it was a joke. It was not a joke.”

Gabriel coughed into his tea, which was absolutely laughing.

Alexandra leaned forward, fascinated and horrified. “Can I read it?”

“No,” Rafael said immediately. “Absolutely not. It contains… details.”

Gabriel raised a brow. “Details?”

Rafael pointed his pen at him like a weapon. “Do not say it like that. It wasn’t romantic or flattering. It was a threat assessment disguised as a dating profile.”

Alexandra practically vibrated. “Now I really want to read it.”

“You cannot,” Rafael insisted, stabbing the desk lightly for emphasis. “There are bullet points. With subcategories. And an appendix.”

Gabriel made a strangled sound into his teacup.

Rafael continued, voice rising with every word. “Alexandra, he attached a risk index. A risk index. For men I might go to dinner with.”

“What was Augustus ranked?” Gabriel asked with horrifying calm.

Rafael closed his eyes. “…Moderate risk of emotional volatility. High risk of vehicular retaliation.”

Alexandra slapped the table. “Vehicular… HA! I love him.”

“I don’t,” Rafael said flatly. “He assigned Augustus a hazard color.”

Gabriel looked deeply entertained. “Which one?”

Rafael opened his eyes just to glare at the universe. “Orange.”

Alexandra gasped. “Orange? The same color they use for incoming explosions?”

“Yes.” Rafael dropped his head into his hands. “Because according to Gregoris, Augustus’s emotional stability is ’similar to an overheating ether core.’”

Gabriel set down his tea. “Accurate.”

Rafael groaned. “And there was a final line. A recommendation section.”

Alexandra leaned in. “Which said?”

Rafael whispered, ashamed, “-’Remove him from the list, Rosenroth.’”

Gabriel smiled into his sleeve.

Alexandra covered her mouth to hold in the scream-laughter that still escaped anyway. “Gregoris filed paperwork to sabotage your date. Paperwork.”

Rafael thudded his forehead onto the desk again. “If I disappear one day, it’s because I’ve drowned myself in the palace fountain.”

Gabriel gently patted the stack of reports between them. “Well, he can’t kill you.”

Rafael lifted his head just enough to squint at him. “What?”

“I told Damian,” Gabriel said, perfectly serene, “that Gregoris may do whatever unhinged thing he wishes, as long as he leaves you alive and physically intact.”

Rafael blinked slowly. “So he can terrorize me into dating him through the system, but he cannot commit murder?”

“Exactly.”

Rafael stared at him, betrayed. “That is not reassuring.”

Before Rafael could spiral into a fresh wave of despair, a soft knock sounded at the door.

Gabriel glanced over. “Come in.”

Irina entered with a bright smile, practically skipping toward the small table near the ministry office where junior secretaries often left sugary offerings for morale. She carried a pastel box with both hands, proud and glowing.

“I brought cookies,” she announced, placing the box down as if it contained diplomatic treasure. “I made them myself. Alexander said they didn’t kill him, so they’re probably safe.”

Rafael blinked, his exhaustion pausing for the first time that morning. “You bake?”

“Of course,” she replied, already straightening the bow on the lid. “It helps me focus. And I give them to the Shadows sometimes, especially when they’re sulking.”

For a moment, Rafael said nothing.

The words drifted through his mind with a slow, dawning clarity.

Cookies.

Given to Shadows.

Accepted by Shadows.

Gregoris was a shadow, but according to his own words from Saturday, he disliked sweets.

A spark of pure, elegant wickedness lit behind Rafael’s pale blue eyes.

He smiled, gentle and almost too sweet.

“Oh, Irina?” he said, his tone warm.

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Would you mind sharing your recipe?”

Irina brightened. “You bake too?”

“No,” Rafael replied, rising from his chair in a smooth motion, “but I think I’d like to learn.”

Alexandra froze mid-sip, eyes widening. Gabriel’s pen paused above the page, suspended in quiet dread.

Irina, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere, clapped lightly. “I can teach you! I even have a printed version.”

Rafael nodded with growing satisfaction. “That would be very helpful.”

Gabriel exchanged a look with Alexandra, both of them recognizing the unmistakable edge of strategy forming behind Rafael’s calm expression.

“Rafael,” Gabriel said cautiously, “what exactly are you planning?”

“Nothing concerning,” Rafael answered, inspecting the cookie box like a carefully crafted weapon. “Truly.”

Alexandra whispered to Gabriel, “He is planning something.”

“He absolutely is,” Gabriel replied softly. “And we should be afraid.”

Irina frowned, glancing between them. “Did I cause a problem?”

Rafael turned toward her with surprising tenderness, setting a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t cause anything. In fact, you may have solved several things at once.”

Her expression brightened instantly. “Oh! Good.”

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