Arik stared at his father for several seconds.
"Cecil likes being Crown Prince."
"He does," Damian said.
"He likes having authority."
"Very much."
"He has spent most of his adult life complaining that everyone treats him like my younger brother instead of trusting him with anything important."
Gabriel finally surrendered and laughed, setting what remained of his pastry onto the small porcelain plate before him.
"All of that is true, and he is still going to give you an earful."
Arik leaned back in his chair, the dark fabric of his imperial coat pulling slightly across shoulders that had become considerably broader since he crossed the Gate.
"For becoming emperor?"
"For disappearing."
"That was not intentional."
"That distinction will not save you."
Max rested his chin lightly against one hand, green eyes bright with amusement. "I recommend not opening with that defense."
Noah nodded. "Or telling him fate did it."
"I was not planning to blame fate."
