CHAPTER 497: CHAPTER 491: PARENT TALK

Damian’s study carried a quieter weight than the council chambers, though no less authority. Shelves of black stone framed the room, filled with records and sealed reports, and the ether conduits ran softer here, their hum a steady counterpoint to the scratch of stylus against tablet.

Max dropped into one of the deep chairs without asking permission, arms flung over the rests like a man claiming territory. "You know," he drawled, green eyes flashing with amusement, "watching you two dismantle Detrom’s delegation was almost entertaining enough to make up for the fact that you still insist on dragging me to these meetings."

Theo exhaled through his nose, taking the chair opposite with more restraint but no less finality. His expression was dry, his eyes carrying that particular exhaustion that came not from politics but from domestic life. "Please. That was easier than convincing my nineteen-year-old son that his university stipend is not an infinite source of coin. Or keeping my daughter from telling me she knows better than every general in the capital."

Max barked a laugh, leaning back until the chair creaked. "At least Detrom only tries to hide refinery numbers. Your children sound like they’re already plotting coups."

Theo’s lips twitched into something that was not quite a smile. "I’d almost prefer refinery fraud." He reached for a glass of water before continuing. "You will have Noah to worry about."

Max grinned, unrepentant. "Noah? He’s ten, Theo. The most dangerous thing he’s done this week is dismantle my chronometer and reassemble it into something that rings every time Cecil sneezes."

Theo’s dry look didn’t waver. "And Arik is ten, too. The difference is that your son is clever enough to build trouble, and theirs is clever enough to weaponize it."

Gabriel’s lips curved, brown eyes glinting. "He already has. Cecil hasn’t stopped setting it off like a war trumpet. My study sounds like a parade ground."

Max barked a laugh, leaning further into the chair. "You’re welcome. At least it’s better than Noah’s attempt at teaching him dice games. My boy’s already calculating odds like a bookmaker."

Damian finally set aside his stylus, golden eyes narrowing faintly, though amusement flickered under the steel. "Dice and pranks I can overlook. But if I catch him teaching Arik how to circumvent palace security again, you’ll both be answering for it."

Max raised his hands, grinning. "Fair. But you’ll thank me when they’re old enough to turn that ingenuity outward."

Theo shook his head, pushing to his feet with a sigh. "I’ll leave the optimism to you. I’d still rather face refinery fraud than children who think they’re cleverer than their fathers."

Gabriel arched a brow. "Then you’d better get used to disappointment."

Theo allowed the faintest twitch of a smile, bowed slightly, and excused himself. Max followed with a mock salute, still chuckling as he disappeared into the corridor.

The study fell quiet again, the air easing into stillness. Damian leaned back in his chair, rubbing briefly at the bridge of his nose before glancing at Gabriel.

"You’re smiling," he observed.

Gabriel stepped closer, perching on the edge of the desk, eyes warm and sharp all at once. "Because I still want a child that looks like me."

Damian’s gaze lingered, molten and steady. "Arik has your stubbornness. Cecil, your wit. Is that not enough?"

"Are you already overwhelmed? I thought you wanted ten at first."

Damian’s mouth curved faintly, the molten edge of his gaze softening. "Ten was before I realized one Cecil was equal to five ordinary children. The Empire could barely withstand ten."

Gabriel tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "So you admit you overestimated yourself."

"Never," Damian said at once, voice steady, though his golden eyes glinted with reluctant amusement. "I only admit I underestimated you. You breed chaos into order with every step. Arik and Cecil are proof of that."

Gabriel leaned closer, his tone deceptively mild. "Then perhaps it’s time to see if fate can be bent again. One with my eyes. My hair. Someone the court looks at and knows without question where they came from."

Damian’s hand slid across the desk, settling firmly over Gabriel’s knee, grounding the words with heat. "You think I’d ever let anyone question it? They already know. Every time Arik walks into a room with his head high, every time Cecil sharpens his tongue. They are yours as much as mine."

Gabriel’s smile deepened, sharper now. "Mm. But I want the proof carved on their face, not just in their spirit. Call me vain if you will, but you are going to give it to me."

Damian’s laughter rumbled low, breaking the quiet like distant thunder. "Vain," he echoed, golden eyes glinting with heat and humor. "You speak as though I wouldn’t want the same. Another child, one carved in your image—tell me, do you think I wouldn’t claim that victory?"

Gabriel tilted his head, a smirk curving. "Victory? You make it sound like a campaign."

"Everything worth having is," Damian countered, his thumb brushing slow circles against Gabriel’s knee. "And you, Empress, have never shied from battle."

Gabriel huffed, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. "You only want more children because you enjoy the process."

The Emperor’s mouth curved fully this time, rare amusement softening the steel of his features. "And you don’t?" he asked, voice low, threaded with teasing certainty.

Gabriel’s lips twitched despite himself, his composure wavering at the edges. "That’s hardly the point."

Damian leaned closer across the desk, his voice dropping, velvet and molten. "It sounds very much like the point."

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, though amusement flickered in the brown depths. "You enjoy edging me with your words far too much," he murmured, fingers sliding up to hook in Damian’s tie. With a sharp tug, he pulled him forward across the desk. "Enough."

Damian let himself be drawn, golden eyes molten and steady even as his mouth curved in a bright smile. "Impatient?"

"Practical," Gabriel corrected, and before Damian could answer, he caught his mouth in a kiss, his pheromones already in the air. The faint hum of the conduits threaded the air, but here, in the heart of the Emperor’s study, the empire itself faded to silence.

Damian’s hand tightened on his knee, the other sliding up to Gabriel’s waist, pinning him with unyielding heat. He laughed softly against Gabriel’s lips, low and dangerous. "You call me a tyrant, and yet here you are, commanding me."

Gabriel broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his smirk curling. "Then obey."

Damian, as always, came to Gabriel and did exactly that.