Damian stepped back from the map, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves as the last of the light bled across the chamber floor. "That will be all for today," he said, his voice cool again. "Send the requisitions for the Paisian border review. I'll read them after dinner."
Astana gave a short nod, already moving to gather the relevant folders. "Understood. I'll prepare Irina for court in the morning."
Damian turned toward the tall doors of the Imperial Office, his thoughts shifting to the peace of his wing—and Gabriel, whose mood had hopefully not been completely destroyed by the dinner with Lucius and Theo. He had agreed to the meeting because of obligation, but not without hesitation. If either of them had pushed too far—if they'd tried to lecture, guilt, or play family politics—Gabriel would've walked out, and Damian would've had to clean up the fallout.
Again.
