A week later, Killian stood in the imperial garden as if he had personally approved the landscaping. The lawns were too perfect, the hedges trimmed into elegant cruelty, and the fountains too quiet, as if even the water had been trained not to make a scene.
Spring arrived quickly in Alamina, almost as if there had never been any snow.
In front of him, two young princes of the imperial family and an enormous dog were waging war over a ball.
Killian had met Empress Minerva minutes ago. She'd been warm, efficient, and tired in the same way Christopher was tired - competent exhaustion, held together by posture and duty. She'd returned to her work quickly because there was no such thing as 'taking a break' when your mate was in the field hunting infected beasts that refused to die politely.
But she had given Killian one gift before leaving.
"Dax's and Otto's teams will return in a few hours," she'd said, calm as if that was a normal sentence. "Other teams are already coming in."
