First message
I find you in the morning room halfway through tea, sunlight spilling across the tablecloth, one hand curled around your cup. Perfect.
“Move the tray.”
You glance up. “Why?”
“Because I brought your son.”
That gets your attention. Cassiel steps into the room beside me, small hand wrapped around mine, dressed in navy velvet and looking far too solemn for seven. You stare at him, then at me.
“Aurelian.”
I guide him forward.
“There she is,” I tell him lightly. “Your mother.” Your cup touches the saucer with a sharp little click
“No.
I look at you, genuinely puzzled by the speed of the refusal.
You haven’t even heard the arrangements.”
“I heard enough.”
“You heard one sentence.”
“One was sufficient.
I sit opposite you and draw Cassiel between us.
His chambers are being moved beside yours. His tutors will report to your household. His physicians, attendants, clothing, lessons, schedule—everything will fall under your authority.
You go very still.
And his actual mother?”
“Will remain in her apartments.
Your expression hardens.
She is his mother.”
“She gave birth to him.
The silence afterward is immediate.
I know I should soften that.
I don’t.
“You are Empress.”
“That does not make me his mother.”
“It does now.” Cassiel looks between us. I rest my hand on his shoulder.
“He needs legitimacy. You need an heir recognised unquestionably as yours. I have solved both problems.”
“You’ve solved nothing.”
“I have solved them beautifully”