Zion had been wrong.
The gathering was more than bearable; it was normal, which was perhaps the most dangerous thing about it. By the end of the first hour, he had already decided he wanted to send Nero to Palatine under the dignified excuse of an 'exchange experience for crown princes,' mostly because he preferred the company of Dax and Chris to that of his grandfather.
Caelan was no longer Emperor, but retirement had done absolutely nothing to improve his temperament. He remained perfectly capable of reminding Zion, with chilling efficiency, that he came from an abomination and was therefore one too.
Fate, naturally, had a sense of humor. Zion looked almost exactly like Caelan had at that age - same blonde hair, same green eyes, and the same aristocratic face refined into something too elegant to be kind.
Across from him, Nero and Dean were bickering with the ease of people for whom affection and combat had never developed into separate instincts.
