"We have the whole term to work on this," Zaeryn said, without turning around to face her, "We can pick this up again tomorrow. So I’m done for today."

He started leaving before she could respond. "Tomorrow,"

Leia watched him for a second. "You are not going to make this a habit," she said, just as he was crossing the threshold. It was not a question.

He did not answer her. He simply kept walking, and the door hissed shut behind him.

He let out a slow breath once he was outside, ran a hand through his hair to put it back in some kind of order. "I need a haircut ," he murmured to himself, and made his way down the corridor toward the stairs.

The lounge on the lower floor was quiet. The afternoon light through the windows had shifted, gone gold and slanted across the rug. He reached the bottom of the stairs and the voices became distinct.

Hela was standing near the window speaking to someone who was not yet in Zaeryn’s view.

He caught the end of a sentence as his boots reached the floor.

"... Dear, you and I both know it is not going to ..."

Hela’s eyes lifted, found him, and the rest of the sentence simply did not arrive.

As Zaeryn continued down the stairs, the other person she was speaking to was finally in his view. It was Celestine.

Celestine’s gaze tracked Hela’s a beat later, settled on him, and registered him.

"Hey, Hela." Zaeryn said.

"Leaving us already?" Hela asked.

"I am, yes." He stopped a respectful distance from the couch and gave her a small nod. "I wanted to thank you properly before I left. I appreciate you having me in your home, and the drink earlier was genuinely the best thing I have had all day."

"Was it?" Hela tilted her head fractionally, the corner of her mouth moving toward something that was not quite a smile. "I will make sure there is more of it next time, in that case."

"That would be appreciated." He glanced briefly toward Celestine who was looking outside the window. It came off to Zaeryn like she couldn’t wait for him to leave so she could continue the conversation her and Hela were having. "Enjoy your evening." He said.

After that he let himself out.

★★★

When Athea returned to her workspace, the door read her approach and slid open without a sound.

The chair opposite the desk was occupied again by the person who had been told not to come along.

Aphrodite was seated with her legs crossed, projecting the unbothered aura of someone who had been there the entire time and had absolutely nothing to explain about how she had arrived.

"You took forever," Aphrodite remarked, her tone light. The comment carried the small weight of a question without quite committing to one. "Was it a long conversation?"

Athea did not answer immediately. She crossed the room with her usual measured stride and lowered herself into the chair behind the desk, reaching for the top letter from a stack of correspondence waiting for her attention.

"The usual," she replied, her tone measured. "The Asvielle reception is generating more correspondence than the protocol office can absorb in the time available. Queen Athena wanted to walk through the invitation list herself. She prefers to handle the high-tier names personally."

Aphrodite considered this. The explanation was boring enough to be plausible and trivial enough to disappoint her, both of which were exactly what Athea had intended.

"That sounds so tedious."

"It was."

"You could’ve brought me. I’m great with lists."

"I’m aware." Athea skimmed the letter without comment. She did not look up. "Tell me. When the Sentinel removed you from the corridor outside the throne room, did she give you the long speech about palace protocol or the short one?"

There was a single beat of silence.

The lightness in Aphrodite’s face faltered. She had been caught. "It was the short one," she said eventually. "And I wasn’t eavesdropping."

"You were standing outside a sealed throne room with the side of your head approximately one finger’s width from the door."

"I was looking for—" Aphrodite started, scrambling for a believable excuse, but Athea cut her off.

"You were looking for the contents of a conversation that was not for you. Let’s be precise about it." Athea lifted her eyes from the letter and rested her gaze on Aphrodite, mild on the surface and carrying nothing soft underneath. "Do not do it again."

"I..." Aphrodite began.

"I’m not going to ask whether you understood me. I’ll assume you did, because the alternative would be less flattering to either of us."

Aphrodite did not say anything for a moment. She did not look at Athea, and she did not argue. The instinct to argue presented itself, briefly, and she set it aside, recognizing the register Athea was using. She had a clear sense by now of how much weight sat on the other side of it.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I won’t."

"Good." Athea’s expression shifted, the sternness softening into something motherly in her own particular way. "On a separate matter. I’ll speak with Iselle on your behalf. You should have your amethyst piece for the reception."

Aphrodite’s head came up before the sentence had fully landed, and the careful composure she had been maintaining for the previous two minutes evaporated in an instant. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.

"Wait, really?" Her voice climbed half an octave. "She refused me directly! Twice! She sent the second refusal through her atelier manager, which she only does when she wants it to feel official."

"I’m aware of how Iselle communicates," Athea said dryly. "Leave it with me."

Aphrodite did not, for a small and uncharacteristic moment, know what to do with her face. The relief moved across her openly, and she didn’t quite remember to mask it before it had already happened.

"Mother..." She gathered herself, and the gathering was visible. "Thank you. Truly. I’ve been losing my mind over it. You have no idea."

"I have some idea," Athea said, with the faintest amused curve at the corner of her mouth.

"I’ll let you work. I won’t bother you for the rest of the afternoon, I promise." Aphrodite was already on her feet, the brightness she had walked in with restored in full.

"That would be appreciated."

Aphrodite reached the door, paused half a step before crossing the threshold, and turned to look back. The smile she gave was small and private and entirely unguarded.

"Thank you, mother."

She left.

Just immediately as Athea was about to embrace the silence, the door hissed again and Valerie walked in.

"Athea, the guest list needs your stamp," Valerie announced.

"I know. Let me look at it now," Athea replied, her tone measured.

Valerie sat down, making herself comfortable. Meanwhile, Athea looked at her data-slate, her eyes scanning the guest list for the highly coveted event.

In just 8 days the highly anticipated Lumina gala was going to take place, and it was one of the biggest events in this queendom.

"By the way, we added Sage Stellan and Cassia Stellan to the guest list for this year’s Lumina gala," Valerie noted casually.

Athea would continue to look at the names scrolling across the glowing screen. Without looking up, she asked, "What do the other members of the council think of this list?"

Valerie smiled easily. "They are okay with it." She paused for a brief second before suggesting, "Actually, I was thinking of allowing a few of the guests to bring plus-ones. What do you think?"

Athea’s gaze remained cool and fixed on the slate. "We already agreed that this year’s gala would have no plus-ones, since we extended the list to include even people from outside our borders."

"And that’s why it’s only a few selected people," Valerie reasoned, her cheerful demeanor masking a very specific agenda. "More precisely, only Sage is allowed to bring a plus-one."

Athea finally stopped reading and looked directly at Valerie, her ice-blue eyes sharpening.

She knew exactly what Valerie was doing. Ever since Valerie had unexpectedly met Zaeryn during her visit to Stellan Innovations and taken that impulsive selfie with him, she had been entirely fascinated by the anomaly. Valerie only wanted Sage to bring a plus-one because she desperately wanted Zaeryn to come to the Gala, and Athea knew it.

"No," Athea said, her voice dropping to a cold, uncompromising tone. "There is no exception for her."

Valerie was not done. She still tried to convince Athea,

"The entire imperial council agrees with me on this one. Sage Stellan is the brilliant new lead to our precious Aegis Division. We thought it was a good idea to invite the people in her life. She just left a very comfortable life in Sector Seven to work directly for the Crown. And allowing her one tiny comfort, her boyfriend, is just good diplomacy. We want to keep our top minds happy, don’t we?"