Chapter 320

"Valerie, what is the meaning of this?"

Athea's gaze moved briefly toward Valerie's hand on Zaeryn's arm before returning to her cousin. Whatever surprise she had felt at finding them together had already hardened into displeasure.

"I'm giving our special guest a tour of the palace," Valerie replied, sounding entirely unconcerned.

Zaeryn glanced sideways at her. He had seen his mother silence entire benches of councilwomen through a holographic projection, and being in her physical presence made that aura of absolute command impossible to ignore. Valerie, however, appeared perfectly comfortable standing in front of her with an easy smile.

"He is not a guest. You cannot parade him through the royal wing," Athea corrected.

"Ouch," Zaeryn muttered.

Valerie faked a wounded look, turning her eyes to Zaeryn. "You've hurt our guest's feelings, cousin," she observed.

Athea gave him a brief, admonishing look. "Oh, do not get sentimental. You understand perfectly well why you are here. You remain under Imperial evaluation. Valerie's enthusiasm does not alter that."

Her tone was less icy than the one she had used with Valerie, though it remained unmistakably a reprimand. She seemed to expect him to understand precisely what she meant without taking offense.

Zaeryn was caught off balance. That motherly, stern cadence was not something he had anticipated. Earlier, when he had stood before the Council bench, she had been the one interrogating him with a clinical detachment that felt completely devoid of maternal warmth.

"I know, Your Highness." It was the only answer court protocol really allowed him to give.

Athea held his eyes for three long seconds. "Then I trust you understand the distinction."

Valerie sighed lightly, glancing his way. "Excuse her, Zaeryn. She's always been particular about procedure. She makes a walk in the gardens sound like high treason."

"The gardens are not the issue," Athea replied evenly. "There are visiting delegates in this wing. Seeing you escort him through it will invite questions about a matter the Council is still actively considering."

"All right," Valerie conceded, showing little embarrassment at being checked. "You have a point about the delegates. Still, that doesn't prevent us from showing him some hospitality. Sage was occupied with the Aegis reports, and he was sitting alone in his suite. I offered to show him around."

"And you have."

"Yes, and we were enjoying ourselves," Valerie said smoothly. "If you would excuse us, we'll continue doing that."

Zaeryn kept quiet as the two women held each other's gaze. Valerie's sheer comfort around his mother was becoming almost as fascinating as the palace grounds. He had assumed anyone in Athea's orbit, given her reputation and presence, lived in perpetual dread of overstepping.

Before either princess could speak again, hurried footsteps echoed down the polished gallery. A palace steward rushed toward them with a data-slate clutched in both hands, offering a deep bow to both women before addressing Valerie.

"Your Highness, forgive the interruption, but there is a problem with the Gala preparations."

Valerie's expression tightened. "What happened?"

"The central lighting array failed during the diagnostic test. The proposed replacement alters the floor arrangement, and the installation team cannot agree on how to proceed."

"So they've stopped working?"

"In that section of the hall, yes. They require your direct authorization."

Valerie rolled her eyes, her easy demeanor snapping into sharp, aristocratic authority. "What do we employ planners for if I still have to micromanage the staging myself?"

The steward wisely kept her head lowered.

Valerie released Zaeryn's arm and turned to face him, her irritation melting into an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Zaeryn. Duty calls."

"It's fine," he replied.

"The Royal Guards will see you back to your quarters. I'll catch up with you later."

"I wish to speak with him before he returns," Athea interjected quietly.

Valerie glanced between them, pausing for a fraction of a beat before inclining her head. "Very well."

"Show me the replacement they're proposing," Valerie ordered the steward as she turned on her heel. "And tell the decorators to keep their hands moving on everything else."

Athea waited until the sound of their footsteps faded down the corridor before addressing the two aides standing behind her.

"Leave the reports in my office. I will review them upon my return."

Both women bowed crisply and departed, leaving Zaeryn standing alone beneath the watchful eyes of the royal escort.

"Come with me," Athea said.

She led him toward a private door farther along the gallery. Beyond it lay a quiet, sunlit sitting room, furnished with an expansive sofa beneath arched windows and a pair of plush armchairs arranged around a low marble table.

Athea instructed the guards to hold their posts outside, stepping inside and sealing the heavy door behind them.

Zaeryn stopped three paces into the room.

Now that the door was shut and the rest of the palace had been cut away from them, an unfamiliar uncertainty settled heavily in his chest. He had spent years imagining this confrontation, but having it forced upon him without warning left his thoughts scrambled.

It was only now truly sinking in that, at last, he was standing in a room alone with Athea.

Now what?

Athea turned toward the sofa. "Sit with me."

He crossed the room and took a seat, leaving a deliberate, guarded space between them.

For several moments, she simply looked at him. Her regal mask softened, though she retained every ounce of the poise he had associated with her holographic image.

"I hope you understand the circumstances," she said.

"Yeah. I understand."

"Valerie still knows nothing of our connection."

"I haven't said a word to her."

"Of course you haven't. I credit you with considerably more intelligence than that," Athea replied smoothly. "Discretion, however, requires more than keeping a secret, Zaeryn. You must also account for what others perceive."

Zaeryn studied her profile. Her voice carried no trace of an accusation, only calculated instruction. "I know."

Athea turned her head, searching his eyes. "Are you still angry with me?"

Zaeryn shifted slightly, unsure of what answer she was trying to draw out of him.

"Of course you are," Athea answered for him. "I would expect nothing less."

She turned more fully toward him, holding his gaze with absolute stillness.

"You may understand why I sent you away. But understanding the necessity does not oblige you to make peace with everything that followed."

The bluntness of it caught him off guard.

"Keeping you away from the palace was necessary," she continued, her voice remarkably even. "I will not pretend that every year of my absence was equally necessary. There were opportunities to reach out to you, and I allowed them to pass."

"Why?" The word slipped past his teeth before he could filter it.

"For a very long time, I did not know how to face you," she admitted quietly. "I could defend every tactical choice I made to keep you alive. I could not justify why I allowed you to grow into a man knowing nothing of the woman who bore you."

Zaeryn remained silent, his jaw tightening.

"I kept telling myself I would initiate contact when I had a satisfactory answer prepared. With every passing cycle, there was simply more to answer for."

"So you chose silence."

"Yes," Athea said simply. "I did."

She let the admission sit between them, unadorned by excuses, before reaching out. Her hand settled against the side of his face, cool and steady, her fingers tracing the line of his cheek.

"I have missed your life, Zaeryn. Receiving reports from Ysmeine did not make me a part of it. I am painfully aware of that."

He had prepared himself for a political lecture, an arrogant defense, or an icy dismissal. To have her calmly validate his resentment completely stripped him of the argument he had spent years preparing.

"I intend to make amends," she said, her voice softening further. "We will have uninterrupted time soon. You may ask me whatever you wish, and I will give you the truth. Until then, I need you to trust me a little longer."

Zaeryn opened his mouth to reply, but Athea reached out and took his arm.

"Come here."

"What are you doing?"

Her hand rested against his shoulder, firm yet undeniably tender. "I should like a quiet moment with my son," Athea murmured. "Rest your head here."

She tapped her lap.

Zaeryn stared at the space she indicated, his instincts immediately resisting the suggestion. His neck and shoulders locked rigid as iron, his entire frame bracing against the idea as though accepting something so intimate from her would leave him dangerously exposed.

"Perhaps we can steal a few minutes for ourselves," she whispered.

Her hand remained on his shoulder, but she did not pull him any farther, leaving the decision entirely to him.

Zaeryn hesitated, warring with the sheer absurdity of the position. He was a grown man, an anomaly powerful enough to make members of the Imperial Council nervous, yet she was treating him like an exhausted boy.

Slowly, fighting his own resistance, he brought his boots onto the sofa and lowered himself until his head came to rest against her lap.

His spine remained stiff, his hands awkwardly folded against his chest.

Athea did not push him to relax. She simply supported the back of his neck with one hand until he settled, then reached up to brush his dark hair away from his forehead with slow, deliberate strokes.

A sharp, disorienting pang struck Zaeryn's chest.

It was the exact posture, the same familiar, comforting rhythm Ysmeine had used to ground him across eighteen years whenever the world grew too heavy.

The realization brought a sudden, hollow ache.

Athea had outsourced every ounce of this maternal warmth to another woman while she watched from behind secure transmissions, yet here she was, claiming the gesture without hesitation.

Her fingertips drifted downward, tracing the broad, defined line of his jaw, solid, sharp and unmistakably mature. Her touch lingered there for a beat, as if she were measuring the physical reality of a grown man against the phantom infant she had sent away.

"There. Be at ease, little one."

Zaeryn blinked up at her, the ridiculousness of the pet name breaking through his guard. "I'm an adult, you know."

"So you are," she replied, a faint, genuine smile touching her lips as her thumb smoothed over his cheekbone. "Indulge your mother for a moment."

He had no rebuttal for that.

The anger was still burning in his chest, but for once he did not know what to do with it. He had spent weeks in the Capital rehearsing cutting remarks, determined to prove that he owed her nothing.

Now that she was openly conceding her failures instead of defending them, throwing those words at her no longer carried the satisfaction he had imagined.

"Have you been well otherwise?" Athea asked softly.

"Mostly."

"Any complications at the residence?"

"No. It's quiet."

"You look exhausted."

"Didn't get much sleep," he muttered, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

Athea's gaze sharpened with concern. "Because of the hearing?"

"Yeah. Hard to rest when you don't know if you're leaving in chains."

"The hearing is concluded," she assured him, her voice leaving no room for argument. "See that you rest properly once you return."

Zaeryn gave a slight nod against her knees.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

Her hand paused in his hair. "Why?"

"Valerie showed up before I had the chance," he explained. "Viora had some rations sent up to the suite earlier, anyway."

"Earlier?" Athea's brows knit together.

"There was nothing in the refrigerator when I arrived yesterday. Just water."

Silence fell over the room, sudden and cold.

"I was not informed of that," Athea said, her voice dropping into that dangerous, precise register she used for administrative failures. "Your provisions should have been fully stocked prior to your arrival. I should have overseen the logistics personally."

"Viora took care of it."

"That is irrelevant. See that you eat when you return. I will address the household staff immediately."

"All right," Zaeryn conceded, almost amused by the shift.

The woman who commanded armies and sat among the most powerful members of the Imperial Council was visibly incensed over an empty refrigerator.

It was an ordinary, mundane worry, but somehow it carried more weight than her grand apologies.

After a quiet interval, Athea broke the silence again, asking about his walk with Valerie.

Zaeryn found himself recounting the expansive garden terraces, the cascading bioluminescent fountains, and how sprawling the layout seemed from the ground. Athea listened without once cutting him off, smiling faintly when he admitted he would almost certainly get lost if left unescorted.

"You will become familiar with the pathways in time," she said smoothly.

Zaeryn glanced up into her pale blue eyes.

There was an absolute certainty in her tone, as though his continued presence in the Capital was already a settled matter.

For several minutes, the tension in the room evaporated entirely. They spoke of trivial, harmless things, and Zaeryn found himself talking without weighing every syllable beforehand.

Athea's palm returned to rest flat against his cheek, warm and steady.

"All will be well, Zaeryn," she said softly. "We will have time to discuss the rest."

He still wanted answers. He wanted to know what the Council truly intended for him, what Athea had kept from him, and why so much of his life had been decided without his knowledge.

But for the first time since arriving in the Capital, he did not feel the need to demand those answers immediately.

Zaeryn let out a slow, quiet breath, allowing his head to sink a little heavier into her lap.

He was still angry.

He still needed the truth.

He also didn't want to get up just yet.