Chapter 560: Recovering

Dean had never been more grateful for his February birthday.

At the time, his request had seemed almost embarrassingly modest.

He had wanted breakfast with Arion, several uninterrupted hours with Theodore, dinner somewhere private, and enough silence that nobody required him to dress formally.

The palace communications team had handled the public portion by releasing a photograph of the three of them in the Crown Prince’s residence. Dean had been sitting against Arion on one of the window seats with Theodore asleep across both their laps, dressed in a soft sweater instead of ceremonial clothing, while the accompanying statement politely explained that the crown consort was continuing to recover after a demanding year and would celebrate privately with his family.

Dean had approved the wording without thinking much about it.

That had been a mistake.

Apparently, a significant portion of the extended imperial family had interpreted recovering as evidence that Dean existed in a perpetual state of elegant medical fragility.

He discovered this during Theodore and Arion’s shared birthday celebrations in August.

By eleven in the morning, Dean had already endured a public appearance on the palace terrace, a family breakfast, photographs with Otto and Minerva, Theodore’s first cake, two separate wardrobe changes because Theo had smeared cream over the first formal jacket, and nearly forty relatives moving through the private garden reception.

Theodore, naturally, was thriving

He wore pale cream trousers, a tiny dark-green waistcoat, and absolutely none of the matching shoes Minerva had selected because he had removed them within seven minutes and hidden one beneath a chair.

Arion had surrendered to this with suspicious ease.

Dean had not.

He was standing beside one of the long garden tables, drinking something cold and attempting to remember when he had last eaten, when an elderly relative from Otto’s side approached him with a sympathetic expression.

"You look much stronger."

Dean slowly lowered his glass.

"Thank you?"

The woman patted his forearm.

"We were all so worried after your birthday announcement."

Dean’s suspicion sharpened.

"Were you?"

"Of course. Such a long recovery."

Dean stared at her.

Theo was nearly a year old.

He had recovered from the C-section months ago, had resumed selected official work, attended events, traveled internationally, and recently threatened to physically move a cabinet member who had attempted to keep him in a pointless meeting through lunch.

Apparently none of this had defeated one photograph of him wearing knitwear.

"I am completely healthy."

"Oh, naturally."

Her tone suggested he was being very brave about it.

Dean’s fingers tightened around the glass.

Across the garden, Arion looked up.

That man had supernatural instincts for danger when the danger involved his mate potentially insulting a relative.

He began moving toward them.

The woman continued.

"You should still be careful. A constitution like yours—"

Dean smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

"My constitution?"

Arion arrived behind him and placed one hand around his waist.

Perfect timing.

"My love."

Dean did not look away from the woman.

"Apparently I have a constitution."

Arion’s lips brushed his temple.

Dean inhaled vetiver.

The woman smiled at Arion, apparently oblivious to the intervention.

"I was only saying how pleased everyone is to see Dean recovered enough for such a demanding event."

Dean opened his mouth.

Arion kissed the corner of it.

The sentence disappeared.

Dean turned his head very slowly.

Arion’s golden eyes were entirely innocent.

"You should eat," Arion said.

"I was speaking."

"I noticed."

The older relative excused herself a few minutes later, satisfied that Dean had survived another encounter with society.

Dean watched her leave before he looked at Arion.

"You did that on purpose."

"Yes."

"I was perfectly calm."

"You were approximately six seconds from asking whether she wanted to test your constitution personally."

Dean considered it.

"That would have been reasonable."

Arion kissed him again, this time beneath his ear, while vetiver settled warmly around them.

Dean hated how effectively that worked.

Mostly because Arion knew it worked.

"I am not a sickly princess."

"I know."

"The extended family thinks I spend my life fainting onto furniture."

Arion’s mouth moved against his hair.

"You have never fainted onto furniture."

"Thank you."

"You usually threaten the furniture first."

Dean elbowed him.

Arion laughed.

The problem worsened after lunch.

One distant cousin offered Dean her chair despite there being six empty chairs nearby.

Another asked whether traveling to Saha had been "too strenuous."

A third informed him that motherhood—or technically parenthood, after Dean corrected her—could take years to fully recover from.

Dean found Rina near the fountain and pointed at her.

"You."

Rina looked delighted immediately.

"What did I do?"

"Why does half your family think I am dying?"

"Our family."

"Not while they are behaving like this."

Rina laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.

"Oh, this is because of the February photograph."

"I know that now."

"You did look very delicate."

Dean stared at her.

Rina took one look at his face and stepped backward.

"Arion!"

"Coward."

"Absolutely."

Dean would have followed her if Theodore had not appeared from behind one of the flower arrangements at that exact moment, walking determinedly toward him with Matthias several paces behind.

The birthday boy had somehow acquired a decorative gold ribbon around one wrist.

Dean crouched automatically.

Theo walked straight into his arms.

"There you are."

Theo immediately patted Dean’s cheeks with both hands, then twisted toward Arion when he approached.

Arion lifted him.

Theo’s eyes were gold today, bright beneath dark lashes while the faint sweetness of his developing pheromones mixed with cake, flowers, and the vetiver already surrounding them.

Dean’s irritation eased... until Castor appeared.

"I heard you are threatening elderly relatives."

Dean looked at him.

"Who told you?"

"Everyone."

"I threatened nobody."

Arion adjusted Theodore on his hip.

"Technically true."

Castor grinned.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"I can fix that."

Arion caught him around the waist before he moved.

Castor retreated immediately, still laughing.

Dean struggled for approximately two seconds before Arion turned his face and kissed him properly.

Not enough to become inappropriate in the middle of a family celebration.

Enough to derail murder.

Vetiver deepened around Dean at the same time, familiar and warm, cutting through the overlapping pheromonal profiles of dozens of relatives.

Dean stopped resisting.

"That is manipulation."

"Yes."

"You admit it."

"I am trying to preserve diplomatic relations."

"With your own family?"

"Especially with my own family."

Theo watched them with enormous interest and then leaned forward to press an open-mouthed baby kiss against Dean’s cheek.

Dean closed his eyes.

"That is unfair."

Arion smiled.

"He learned from me."

By late afternoon, Dean had decided there were worse problems than being considered a fragile prince by relatives who barely saw him.

He was healthy.

Theo was healthy.

Arion was currently being forced through another round of birthday photographs while Theodore sat on Otto’s shoulders and attempted to steal the emperor’s ceremonial pin.

Dean leaned against the terrace railing, finally holding a plate of food, and watched the chaos with considerably less homicidal intent than he had possessed an hour earlier.

Rina appeared beside him.

"Recovering well?"

Dean turned.

She immediately ran.

This time Arion was too far away to stop him.