By the time the palace wards thrummed with their summer pulse, marking another season's turn, Gabriel's patience was spent. His body was heavy again, the curve of late pregnancy slowing even his sharp strides, exhaustion sharpening his tongue into something Damian endured with the smug patience of a man who'd been here twice before.
"Don't look at me like that," Gabriel snapped one morning when he caught Damian's golden gaze lingering as he tried to lower himself into a chair.
"Like what?" Damian asked mildly, crossing the study with a glass of water he had no intention of letting Gabriel refuse.
"Like you've won," Gabriel muttered, bracing his hands against the armrests, irritation flashing across his face when his body refused to cooperate as quickly as his mind demanded.
Damian placed the glass in his hand before he could object further, crouching with the same calm authority he used in council. "I have won. Twice before. This will be the third."
