CHAPTER 207: CHAPTER 202: IT’S NEVER JUST TEA

Alexandra grinned, eyes sparkling. "That blessed," she corrected dramatically. "He was in Damian’s robe, half-asleep, completely wrecked from last night, and still had the audacity to glare at Edward for bringing tea and not coffee."

Irina covered her mouth, half-laugh, half-shocked gasp. "What does he even drink?"

"If you want to get under his skin," Alexandra said, lowering her voice like it was a sacred truth, "bring him coffee—preferably a latte. Extra milk, no sugar."

Irina blinked. "No sugar?"

"No," Alexandra said solemnly. "He claims he’s sweet enough already."

Irina choked on a laugh. "He said that?"

"Oh no," Alexandra grinned, wicked and proud. "I’ve said it."

Irina raised both brows. "To his face?"

"Of course," Alexandra said, sipping her tea with mock elegance. "He tried to argue once, but it’s hard to sound convincing when you’re draped in silk and glowing like a cathedral window after a night with the Emperor."

Irina’s mouth dropped open. "You’re evil."

"I’m observant," Alexandra replied sweetly. "And someone has to keep him humble. Not that it works—he just blinks at you like you’ve offended his bloodline."

"Is that what older sisters are for?" Irina asked, amused.

"Partially. Mostly, I’m here for the chaos," Alexandra said, then leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. "But between you and me, if he ever does take sugar, it’ll be to weaponize it. Just imagine—Gabriel with coffee and a grudge? Terrifying."

Irina laughed, covering her mouth again. "I think he already is."

She paused. "I have only older brothers, all working for The Emperor . Three shadows and one secretary. I’m not surprised I developed feelings for him."

Alexandra’s brows lifted. "Well, that explains the condition."

Irina flushed. "The what?"

"The chronic ’I’m in love with the Emperor’ affliction. Very common among palace girls. Symptoms include staring at him like he’s the last sunrise on earth and forgetting he’s also the reason half the court needs therapy."

Irina groaned. "I thought he was—"

"A myth? A martyr? A misunderstood god wrapped in sharp uniforms and prettier frowns?" Alexandra waved a hand. "Yes, yes, we’ve all been there. You’re not special."

"I was seventeen," Irina muttered.

"You still are, but you learn."

"Two months and I’m eighteen."

Alexandra gave her a look so dry it could’ve scorched desert sand. "Yes, and I’m two shades of patience away from snapping a fan in half."

Irina huffed, crossing her arms. "You’re mocking me."

"I’m mentoring you," Alexandra corrected smugly. "Mocking is just the delivery method."

Irina tried not to smile. "And what great wisdom have you decided to bestow today, oh oracle of court sarcasm?"

Alexandra leaned in, her voice low and gleeful. "Rule one of surviving the palace: never fall for the crown. Rule two: if you do, make sure it doesn’t belong to Damian Lyon."

Irina glanced toward Gabriel, who was currently holding court at the tea table with a razor-edged smile and not a single hair out of place despite the political inferno brewing around him. "And rule three?"

Alexandra lifted her tea like a toast. "When in doubt, sit near Gabriel. It’s safer there."

Irina snorted. "Safer? The man causes social combustion."

"Yes, but he controls the fire," Alexandra said, a grin curling at the edges of her mouth. "And if you behave, he might let you roast a few nobles with it."

—

Crista had been quiet at first, her teacup held delicately between gloved fingers as she observed the chatter around the table with the ease of someone who had survived fifty years of palace drama—and thoroughly enjoyed every second. But as Alexandra and Irina continued their banter, the Dowager Empress finally leaned in with a spark in her eyes.

"You know," she said with feigned nonchalance, "this is far more entertaining than the reports I receive. Do go on. Don’t stop on my account."

Irina turned, startled, cheeks coloring. "Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh, hush," Crista waved her off, setting her cup down with a delicate clink. "I haven’t had a conversation this amusing since I caught the High Chamberlain crying over spilled ink and diplomatic secrets."

Alexandra grinned. "We were just talking about Gabriel’s coffee addiction and how terrifying he is when he has a grudge."

Crista lifted a brow. "Darling, Gabriel is terrifying when he’s rested. Add caffeine and offense to that, and you get something close to divine retribution in silk robes."

Irina blinked. "You don’t sound surprised."

"Of course not. I like him." Crista’s smile turned sly. "He reminds me of myself when I was young—less polite, more likely to poison someone over poor table manners."

Alexandra choked on her tea, laughing. "That explains so much."

"I try." Crista glanced toward Gabriel again, now calmly sipping from a porcelain cup as if he hadn’t eviscerated a socialite twenty minutes ago. "He’s very good at walking into a room and making it his. My son is powerful, but Gabriel? Gabriel knows how to bend that power without lifting a hand."

Irina hesitated, then asked cautiously, "And you don’t mind that?"

Crista laughed. "Darling, I encouraged it. Do you know how boring court was before he arrived?"

She paused with a conspiratorial smirk. "Imagine him pregnant and hormonal."

Alexandra nearly dropped her tea.

Irina turned red so fast it was almost impressive. "You’re joking."

Crista leaned back with the elegance of a queen and the mischief of someone who absolutely was not. "I never joke about entertaining possibilities, dear."

Alexandra, wheezing into her cup, wiped a tear from her eye. "Oh gods, don’t give him ideas. He’ll start weaponizing it before it’s even confirmed."

"He already has," Crista replied breezily. "You saw how he handled the rumors today. Calm, poised, and devastating. That wasn’t the reaction of someone panicking. That was a Consort plotting the next three moves while sipping tea."

Irina swallowed. "So... you think he really might be—?"

"Oh, I know he suspects," Crista said with a smile that could have sliced steel. "And Damian knows it too. That’s why he was lurking in the rose atrium like a bear denied honey. My son only ever hovers when he thinks something might be taken from him."

"That fast?" Alexandra asked, furrowing her brows. Her tone was half-joking, half-suspicious.

Crista leaned in slightly, lowering her voice with relish. "Edward is sending me reports about this." Then she pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Officially, I’m above such things. Unofficially... I’ve already cleared a room in the nursery wing."

Irina choked on air. Alexandra blinked. "You’re serious?"

Crista gave them both a prim, satisfied nod. "Deadly, we should find out in a month."

Alexandra looked like she was trying to decide whether to scream or laugh. "A month? You mean to tell me that while I’m coordinating three estates and fending off court spies, my brother might be waddling around in imperial robes and blaming everything on hormones?"

Crista took a delicate sip of tea, her eyes gleaming. "Wouldn’t that be divine?"

Irina, who was still recovering from nearly inhaling her tea, whispered, "Does he know?"

"Gabriel?" Alexandra snorted. "He suspects. Damian didn’t let the man become his Empress before making him carry his heirs."

"Heirs? As in multiple?" Irina choked on her breath.

Crista hummed, absolutely delighted by the scandalized squeak Irina made. "Oh, darling. Do you think Damian would stop at one? Please. My son hoards power like a dragon and guards affection like it’s state gold. Of course he wants more than one."

Alexandra leaned in, grinning. "And knowing Gabriel? He’ll complain the whole time and still end up with a house full of tiny tyrants who all glare like Damian and argue like him."

Irina looked genuinely rattled. "But—but he doesn’t even seem like the type who likes children!"

"Oh, he doesn’t," Alexandra said sweetly. "But Damian does. And Gabriel likes winning arguments. So eventually, he’ll convince himself it was his idea. Again."

Crista took another sip of her tea and added, "Also, nothing terrifies the nobility more than a powerful omega willingly carrying the Emperor’s children. It kills the old bloodlines’ fantasies in one stroke. Which, if I’m not mistaken, Gabriel enjoys immensely."

Irina blinked. "So the rumors... the tea party... the political sabotage... and now heirs?"

"Welcome to the palace," Alexandra said dryly. "It’s never just tea."