Gabriel arched a brow. "Pity or madness, depending on the day."
"Both," came another voice, smooth with the kind of familiarity few would dare use here.
Max crossed into the garden light, dark hair catching a faint gleam from the ether currents, green eyes bright with amusement. He didn't bow in private meetings with his family. Blood excused him where others would be crushed.
"I leave you for one evening," he drawled, "and already you're scaring the court into sleepless nights again. Tell me, brother, do you ever tire of it?"
Damian's golden eyes slid toward him, cool, unreadable. "Not once."
Arik's lips curved faintly. "They say you're the approachable one."
Max grinned, leaning with casual ease against the fountain's stone edge. "To nobles desperate enough to think they can buy influence through me, perhaps. They circle like vultures, convinced if they cannot reach him…" his chin tilted toward Damian, "they might coax something from me instead."
