The Empress's Office was already full when Gabriel entered.
Julian looked up from the stack of reports he was annotating with lethal efficiency. Alexandra was sprawled across one of the armchairs like a battle-worn general, scarf tied haphazardly around her bun. Irina was perched neatly at the corner of the settee with two tablets and a physical ledger—because, in her words, "redundancy builds empires." Rafael, of course, was standing by the window, trying not to look like he was standing guard. He failed.
The moment the door clicked shut behind Gabriel, all heads turned.
Alexandra was the first to speak. "You disappeared from the Winter Ball."
Irina added, "Edward said it was being 'handled.'"
Julian's tone was cooler. "Handled is what we say when someone dies offstage."
Gabriel sighed and shrugged out of his coat, draping it over the back of his chair. "I'm fine. It was just… a private matter."
Rafael narrowed his eyes. "Did Damian pull you out?"
