Chapter 514: A Birthday Present

August arrived without a single infected beast leaving its territory.

The military had maintained its usual seasonal preparations, reinforcing the northern observation posts and keeping rapid-response units on standby despite the absence of aggression along the restricted perimeter. Thermal surveillance showed the dormant populations remaining almost exactly where they had been in spring, while the transformed animals continued behaving like ordinary wildlife.

Nobody knew whether the season had been delayed, interrupted by Claudia’s pheromonal cocktail, or somehow changed by Arion’s involvement.

Hendrik refused to celebrate until September.

Dean considered that perfectly reasonable, although he wished the commander would stop sending reports during breakfast.

Arion, meanwhile, had another problem.

Ducks.

He found one inside his office safe on the morning of his thirty-first birthday.

The safe had biometric access.

Dean did not.

Arion spent several minutes staring at the tiny yellow object before quietly contacting Minerva.

His mother denied involvement.

She was laughing when she ended the call.

Arion decided that becoming emperor would eventually be less complicated than understanding how his family continued placing rubber ducks in secured locations.

Fortunately, he had a birthday gala to attend that evening.

Unfortunately, Dean was planning something.

—

Dean had absolutely no idea what to buy his husband.

That was becoming embarrassing.

He sat in the private consultation room of one of Alamina’s most exclusive department stores, surrounded by objects expensive enough to qualify as investments, while Rina and Sylvia examined the selection with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

August sunlight poured through the tall windows overlooking the commercial district, and Dean had already demanded that the air-conditioning be lowered twice.

At thirty-three weeks pregnant, he had developed an entirely reasonable hatred of summer.

His loose black trousers and lightweight cream shirt were comfortable enough, although the fabric did very little to disguise the enormous bump containing a son who apparently considered Dean’s ribs the perfect location for exercise.

Sylvia looked toward him from the opposite sofa.

"You rejected the watch?"

Dean glanced toward the display case.

"Arion has twenty-seven watches."

Rina raised her eyebrows.

"You counted?"

"I was looking for ducks."

That explained considerably more than either woman wanted to know.

Sylvia closed the catalogue in her lap.

"What about something for his collection?"

"He doesn’t collect anything except military reports, medical problems, and responsibilities he could delegate but refuses to."

Rina laughed.

Dean rubbed the side of his stomach as their son shifted beneath his shirt.

"Honestly, I have everything I want. My husband is home, our son is healthy, and Hendrik hasn’t called about an emergency in almost four days. I am beginning to suspect that someone is preparing a catastrophe specifically to ruin his birthday."

"Don’t say that," Sylvia warned.

"You sound like Hendrik."

"He might be right."

Rina picked up a pair of engraved cuff links from a velvet tray.

"These?"

Dean examined them.

Dark gold.

A small imperial crest.

Beautiful craftsmanship.

Absolutely something Arion already owned in six variations.

"No."

The sales consultant standing near the door maintained an admirable expression of professional neutrality.

Dean almost felt sorry for her.

He had already rejected two watches, three custom writing instruments, a rare historical map, several pieces of ceremonial jewelry, and an antique sword that Rina considered an outstanding birthday present.

Dean had reminded her that Arion was married to him.

He did not need another weapon.

Rina had disagreed.

Sylvia set her catalogue aside.

"What did Arion ask for?"

Dean smiled.

"A normal name."

Both women looked at him.

"For the baby?" Sylvia asked.

"Yes. Apparently naming our son after a constellation is unreasonable."

Rina considered that.

"It is."

Dean turned toward her.

"You suggested naming him after Emperor Valerius the Conqueror."

"That is a historical reference."

"Valerius had seven wives and started three civil wars."

"He had an interesting life."

Dean rubbed his forehead.

Sylvia started laughing.

Dean leaned back into his seat and let his head fall on the headrest with a long sigh.

"Arion has everything he wants," he said after Sylvia stopped laughing.

Sylvia considered that while examining the collection of framed photographs displayed on the wall opposite them.

"What about a portrait of the two of you? Something personal rather than another official commission. You could have one made from your favorite photograph."

Dean lifted his head.

"Alamina has already commissioned three portraits of us since I became pregnant, and the last one hasn’t even been delivered."

Rina smiled.

"The one with Arion standing behind you?"

"Yes. Apparently, the entire Empire needs to know exactly how much my stomach has grown since the last official appearance."

The pregnancy announcement had been received with enough enthusiasm that the palace communications team was still struggling to manage the attention. Photographs from their public appearances regularly appeared across the media, and every detail Dean allowed the medical board to release generated another round of congratulations.

He appreciated the affection.

He would appreciate it more if people stopped discussing his stomach as though it were a national infrastructure project.

"Everyone is excited about the heir," Sylvia said.

"They can remain excited without commissioning another portrait of Arion looking smug because he successfully impregnated his husband."

Rina burst out laughing.

Dean adjusted the cushion behind his back.

"The last portrait made him look like he personally invented reproduction."

"He does look proud," Sylvia admitted.

"He has been looking proud for eight months. I am beginning to think his face is stuck like that."

Rina settled into the armchair beside him, crossing one leg over the other while she considered the problem.

"What about a year of vacation?"

Dean slowly turned toward her.

"A year?"

"Yes. No meetings, no military reports, no infected beasts. You could travel after the baby is born and actually enjoy yourselves."

For approximately three seconds, the suggestion sounded wonderful.

Then Dean remembered Otto.

Sylvia apparently reached the same conclusion.

"Your father would rather abdicate."

Rina laughed.

"He has threatened to do that before."

"He would actually do it this time," Dean said. "Arion already takes half the responsibilities Otto insists belong to the crown prince. If I tell him his son is taking an entire year off, he will probably hand me the imperial seal and announce that we can all suffer together."

Rina leaned back, still smiling.

"Mother might help."

"Minerva would join the vacation," Dean replied. "She has been trying to convince Otto to take a proper holiday for years."

Sylvia shook her head.

"Then perhaps something smaller. A private date, just the two of you, without the palace arranging half the evening around security protocols."

Dean’s expression softened.

That sounded considerably more appealing.

He missed being able to drag Arion somewhere simply because he wanted to spend time with him. Their last ordinary shopping trip had ended with a hundred miniature ducks becoming a family conspiracy, a discussion about wanting children, and Arion discovering that his husband had apparently changed his mind about parenthood.

It was one of Dean’s favorite memories.

Unfortunately, the thought of spending several hours walking around a city in the middle of August made him want to lie down.

"A date would be perfect," he admitted, rubbing the side of his stomach as their son moved. "But after he is born. I get tired just walking between our bedroom and the dining room, and the last thing I want is to fall asleep halfway through something I planned for Arion."

They could have a proper date once Dean had recovered from childbirth.

Dinner.

A concert.

Perhaps another shopping trip where Arion would be forced to carry a basket full of entirely unnecessary household items.

Dean smiled at the thought.

Then Rina looked toward the window.

"What about another pet?"