Christian caught the gesture, barely, and lowered his voice, but not the grief beneath it. He looked between them, the glow of the fire casting sharp angles across his cheekbones, hair clinging to his jaw like ink.
"I was going to meet my nephew again. Bring him something. Smile a little. Say something charming and forgettable and leave before it hurt."
Damian said nothing.
"You gave me a fucking kingdom instead."
Gabriel met his eyes, voice quieter than before. "Christian, you are a prince. Own it, and let's be honest, you are mad because you will be away from Astana."
Christian froze long enough for the truth to settle, raw and unavoidable, like a hairline fracture catching light.
His eyes flicked to Gabriel. Then to Damian. Then away, toward the floor, the child, anywhere else.
"I'm not…" he started, then stopped. His jaw clenched, silver eyes flickering. "He's a beta."
Gabriel raised one brow.
