Chapter 9: Breakfast

Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Breakfast

Sebastian reached the eastern dining room twelve minutes late.

That was early by his standards.

The private wing was quieter than the ceremonial center of the palace, although wedding preparations had invaded even here. Fresh arrangements of white roses and pale greenery stood on narrow tables along the corridor, and two members of the household staff were replacing framed photographs with temporary seating charts when Sebastian passed.

They both straightened.

"Good morning, Lord Fitzgeralt."

Sebastian smiled easily.

"Morning."

Neither saw the headache pressing behind his eyes.

That was the advantage of practice.

By the time he reached the dining room doors, the version of Sebastian who had threatened his secretary before sunrise had disappeared beneath polished manners and the effortless composure expected from the Fitzgeralt heir.

A footman opened the door.

Warm sunlight crossed the room through a line of tall windows overlooking the eastern gardens. The space was considerably less formal than the state dining halls, with pale walls, walnut paneling, and a table built for twelve rather than sixty. Coffee and tea sat warming on a sideboard beside covered dishes, fruit, bread, and pastries that nobody in the royal family ever admitted eating despite the kitchen replacing them every morning.

Only three people were seated.

Zion occupied the end of the table, dressed in dark trousers and a pale blue shirt with his sleeves folded neatly beneath his elbows. A tablet rested beside his plate, although from the expression on his face he had been ignoring it for several minutes.

Diana sat on his right.

Sebastian had met her properly at their engagement the previous year.

Diana Este came from one of Palatine’s oldest noble houses and looked exactly like someone who had spent her entire life being prepared for important rooms. Auburn hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder, and her cream blouse was tucked into high-waisted charcoal trousers beneath a fitted jacket she had draped over the back of her chair.

She was an alpha.

Competent, composed, and apparently capable of surviving Zion.

Sebastian had no stronger opinion than that.

Zion loved her.

That was enough.

Across from them sat Nero.

Sebastian stopped for half a second.

Nero wore black trousers and a dark plum shirt open slightly at the throat, the soft fabric loose enough to make the silver chain against his skin visible when he moved. His white-blond hair was completely free, spilling over his shoulders and down his back in a pale sheet that caught the morning light.

He looked offensively well-rested.

Nero was holding a piece of toast between two fingers while Diana explained something about the reception seating.

His attention moved toward the doorway.

Purple eyes found Sebastian.

The toast stopped halfway to his mouth.

Then Nero smiled.

Zion followed his gaze and stared.

"Well."

Sebastian entered.

Diana looked between them. "Should I be concerned?"

"Yes," Zion said.

"No," Sebastian said at the same time.

Nero took a bite of toast.

"Definitely."

Sebastian ignored him and walked toward the sideboard.

Zion was still watching.

"You came to breakfast."

Sebastian poured coffee.

"I was under the impression food was served here."

"You have avoided this room for four mornings."

"I was preserving the atmosphere."

Diana’s mouth curved.

Nero leaned back in his chair.

"How noble."

Sebastian added milk to his coffee and finally looked at him.

Nero’s expression was perfectly ordinary.

There was no sign that his private medical history had become international entertainment less than two hours earlier.

Sebastian disliked that more than expected.

He carried his cup to the table and chose the empty chair beside Diana rather than the one directly across from Nero.

Zion’s eyes dropped briefly to the seating choice.

Sebastian decided his cousin was becoming insufferably observant.

Diana returned to the document in front of her.

"We moved House Este three seats farther from the western windows."

Sebastian looked at her.

"That sentence sounds like it required negotiations."

"My grandmother believes drafts cause neural inflammation."

"They do," Zion said.

Diana turned slowly toward him.

He kept his expression perfectly serious.

Sebastian drank his coffee.

Nero laughed. It was quiet, warm, and entirely unbothered.

Sebastian’s gaze shifted toward him before he could stop it.

Nero noticed.

"Did you sleep badly?" Nero asked far too innocently for Sebastian’s peace of mind.

Sebastian lowered his cup.

"Did you become a physician overnight?"

"No. I have standards."

Zion covered a smile with his coffee.

Sebastian gave Nero a flat look.

"There are several Saharian physicians who would be devastated to hear that."

"Most of them already know."

That could have touched the leak.

Nero did not allow it to.

He reached for a small dish of fruit instead, spearing a piece of pear with unnecessary fineness.

Sebastian watched his hand for a second. Watching his long fingers, a silver ring and their steadiness.

His phone vibrated against the table.

Nero glanced at the screen.

Something amused him.

He typed one short reply and turned the device facedown.

Diana noticed.

"More press?"

"Mother."

"That may be worse."

"Usually."

Sebastian’s attention sharpened.

Christopher, then.

Possibly about the leak.

He told himself he was not interested.

The thought lasted approximately three seconds.

"What did he want?" Zion asked.

Nero reached for his coffee.

"To remind me not to answer journalists personally."

Diana laughed.

Sebastian looked at him.

"Was that necessary?"

Nero’s eyes moved toward him.

"Apparently my parents think so."

"They know you."

"That is their first mistake."

Sebastian was becoming increasingly irritated with Nero’s lack of care for such a sensitive subject.

Diana checked the time and pushed her chair back.

"I have fittings in twenty minutes."

Zion immediately stood with her.

"You said forty."

"The designer changed it."

"Again?"

"She discovered another fabric emergency."

Sebastian lifted his cup toward Diana.

"My condolences."

"Thank you. I may not survive."

"You’re marrying into this family. Consider it training."

She smiled and collected her jacket.

Zion leaned down to kiss her temple before reaching for the tablet beside his plate.

"We have the ceremony rehearsal afterward."

Diana glanced at Sebastian.

"You are attending this one?"

"No."

"Yes," Zion said.

Sebastian looked at him.

Zion did not even hesitate.

"You are standing beside me during the ceremony."

"I was hoping to discover that spontaneously."

"You were informed three months ago."

"Then the surprise has been ruined."

Nero made a quiet sound into his coffee.

Sebastian looked over.

"Something amusing?"

"Constantly."

Zion shook his head.

"Try not to murder each other before ten."

"No promises," Sebastian said.

Nero smiled.

"I’m delightful before ten."

"That is not the word I would use."

Zion gave Sebastian one final suspicious look before following Diana toward the door.

The footman opened it.

Diana stepped into the corridor.

Zion paused long enough to glance back at the table, at Sebastian, then Nero.

Sebastian stared until his cousin decided discretion was preferable to curiosity.

The doors closed.

Silence settled differently after that.

The sounds of the gardens became clearer through the windows. Somewhere below, the metal framework shifted as workers assembled part of the reception pavilion. Birds moved through the old trees beyond the terrace, and sunlight had climbed far enough to reach the opposite edge of the table.

Nero continued eating.

Sebastian sat very still.

He had imagined approaching this differently. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

Not that he had admitted he was approaching anything.

He could ask about the leak casually.

Make it political.

Ask whether Saha required Palatine cooperation.

Perfectly reasonable. Perfectly safe.

Instead, Nero lifted his eyes.

Purple met green.

No smile this time.

Sebastian felt the pressure beneath his ribs tighten once.

He set his coffee down.

"Can we talk?"