Chapter 564: Fragile

Dean chose the event himself.

That was important.

Nobody had dragged him from maternity leave, Arion had not suggested that he needed to appear in public more often, and the communications office had actually recommended waiting another month before adding anything unnecessary to his schedule.

Dean ignored all of them.

The rumor needed to die.

Preferably painfully.

Preferably after several hundred people watched Dean throw someone twice his size onto the floor and finally accepted that the crown consort was not a delicate creature being slowly destroyed by childbirth, parenthood, marriage, weather, stairs, or whatever tragedy the public had invented that week.

The opening of the renovated Imperial Civil Protection Academy seemed perfect.

There would be cameras.

There would be security demonstrations.

There would be enough physical activity that nobody could photograph Dean standing upright for three hours and conclude that he required immediate bed rest.

At least, that had been the theory.

By ten in the morning, Dean regretted believing in human intelligence.

"You should sit."

Dean looked at the chair, at the woman offering it, and back at the chair.

"I have been standing for twelve minutes."

The elderly council representative smiled sympathetically.

"Exactly."

Dean’s fingers tightened around his tea.

Beside him, Rina made a choking sound.

Dean turned.

She had suddenly become fascinated by the academy courtyard.

"Something funny?"

"No."

Her shoulders were shaking.

Several meters away, Minerva was doing no better.

The empress had accompanied them for the opening ceremony in a fitted pale-blue suit, her dark hair pinned beneath a small formal hat, and currently had one hand raised to her mouth as though considering some deeply important matter of state.

Dean knew that expression.

She was laughing at him.

"You too?"

Minerva cleared her throat.

"I said nothing."

"You didn’t need to."

The councilwoman remained blissfully unaware.

"You have had such a demanding year."

Dean smiled.

"I am perfectly healthy."

"Of course."

There it was again. That tone.

The one normally reserved for people insisting they were perfectly comfortable while visibly bleeding from the head.

Dean took a long drink of tea.

He had recovered from surgery months ago.

Theodore was a year old.

They had nannies.

They had household staff.

They had Matthias, who treated guarding Theo as though the survival of civilization depended upon preventing him from climbing furniture unsupervised.

They had Boreas, who had somehow become a mobile safety barrier.

They even had Ducky, whose practical contribution to childcare was questionable but who reliably followed Theodore around and barked when the child attempted to enter rooms he was not supposed to.

Most importantly, Theodore had two fathers.

Arion changed diapers.

Arion fed him.

Arion woke at night.

Arion carried Theo through meetings when necessary and had once completed an entire budget review with their son asleep across his chest.

Apparently the public had collectively decided none of this counted.

Dean was the one who had been pregnant.

Therefore Dean must now be exhausted forever.

The academy director rescued him by announcing the demonstration.

Dean set down his tea.

Finally.

The renovated training hall stood open along one side of the courtyard, its polished floor visible beyond the glass doors. Civil defense recruits were demonstrating emergency response techniques for invited officials and media, followed by several practical self-defense exercises intended for public education programs.

Dean had specifically volunteered.

Arion had laughed for almost a full minute when he heard.

Then he had asked Hunter to make certain nobody paired Dean with someone stupid enough to underestimate him.

Rina followed Dean inside.

"You know this will make it worse."

"How?"

"You are going to fight somebody, win, and they will decide you pushed yourself because you are secretly desperate to prove Arion still loves you."

Dean stopped walking.

Rina nearly collided with him.

"That is not a real rumor."

Her silence answered him.

Dean slowly turned.

"Rina."

"It is a very small rumor."

"How small?"

"Depends on which social platform."

Dean closed his eyes.

Minerva joined them.

"Do not tell him."

"He already knows."

Minerva sighed.

Dean looked between them.

"What exactly do they think happens in our house?"

Rina brightened immediately.

"Would you like the dramatic version?"

"No."

"Arion works eighteen hours a day, you raise Theo completely alone, your health has been deteriorating since pregnancy, and every public photograph where Arion touches you is apparently staged by communications."

Dean stared at her.

Minerva looked toward the ceiling.

Rina continued because self-preservation had never been her strongest quality.

"There is also a group convinced you sleep in separate bedrooms."

"Why?"

"Because Arion looked tired at a conference."

Dean’s hand curled slowly into a fist.

Minerva caught his wrist.

"No."

"I’m not going to hit Rina."

"That was not who I was worried about."

The demonstration began before Dean could ask further questions.

His assigned partner was one of the academy instructors, a broad, dominant alpha who had clearly been briefed properly because he showed Dean neither excessive caution nor stupidity.

Good.

They bowed.

The instructor moved first.

Dean stepped inside the grab, caught his wrist, turned beneath the man’s center of balance, and sent him cleanly over his hip.

The instructor struck the mat.

A collective sound moved through the watching crowd.

Dean released him and stepped back.

The alpha grinned.

"Again?"

"Please."

The second exchange lasted longer.

Dean blocked a shoulder grab, took one controlled strike against his forearm, pivoted, and drove his partner backward before hooking his leg and dropping him onto the mat again.

Applause broke out around the hall.

Dean smiled.

Perfect.

He had barely broken a sweat.

The instructor stood and shook his hand.

"You haven’t lost anything."

"I know."

Dean looked directly toward the media line.

Several cameras caught it.

Let them work with that.

Twenty minutes later, Dean walked back into the courtyard feeling considerably better about humanity.

A reporter approached during the authorized press segment.

"Your Highness, that was an impressive demonstration."

"Thank you."

"Are you concerned about pushing yourself too hard while still recovering from pregnancy and caring for such a young child?"

Dean stared at him.

Behind the reporter, Rina turned around so quickly her ponytail nearly hit someone.

Minerva covered her mouth.

Dean inhaled slowly.

"I am not recovering from pregnancy."

The reporter nodded earnestly.

"Of course, but parenthood itself can be exhausting."

"It can."

"And with His Highness’s schedule—"

"My husband is an active parent."

The reporter hesitated.

Dean continued.

"We also employ nannies, medical staff, domestic staff, and security. Theodore has several grandparents, approximately enough aunts and uncles to form his own committee, a dedicated guardian, and two dogs who consider watching him their personal occupation."

The reporter blinked.

Dean smiled pleasantly.

"I sleep very well."

Rina made another strangled sound.

Then Arion appeared at the edge of the courtyard.

Theo was in his arms.

Their son wore pale trousers and a small green shirt, one arm hooked around Arion’s neck while his other hand held what appeared to be half a biscuit.

Arion had apparently arrived directly from a morning meeting, still wearing a dark formal suit with the tie removed.

Theo spotted Dean.

"PAPA!"

Several cameras turned immediately.

Dean smiled despite himself.

Arion crossed the courtyard and transferred Theo into his arms only when the child began reaching insistently.

Theodore patted Dean’s cheek.

Then pointed toward Arion.

"Dada."

Dean looked directly at the reporter.

"See?"

Minerva lost the battle.

She laughed.

Rina followed immediately, bending forward with both hands on her knees while Dean stood there holding his perfectly happy child and reconsidering whether punching journalists would create more or fewer rumors.

Arion leaned close enough that only Dean could hear him.

"You look murderous."

"I threw a dominant alpha twice."

"I heard."

"They still think I am tired."

Arion kissed his temple.

Vetiver settled warmly around him.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Do not start."

Another kiss landed near his hairline.

Then one against the corner of his mouth.

Dean’s irritation weakened despite his best efforts.

Rina straightened enough to point at them.

"That will be online in five minutes as evidence you are comforting your neglected wife."

Dean looked at her.

"Run."

Rina ran.

Minerva laughed harder.

Arion tightened one arm around Dean’s waist before he could follow.

The rumor, apparently, was going to survive another day.