Carlton, ready to throw in the towel on this conversation faster than a royal jester at a courtly duel, felt his blood pressure spike. Kastiel's eyes had snagged onto Cristian, who's whispering conspiratorially to Cristyn, both twins unaware they're about to be drafted into Kastiel's one-man theatrical production of "I Definitely Don't Have Feelings For Your Husband: The Musical." A primal, parental instinct surges through Carlton's veins—the desperate need to shield his youngest from becoming the next unwitting performer in this corridor catastrophe.
His patience, already stretched thinner than the last sheet of palace parchment, finally snaps. The temperature in the corridor plummets several degrees as he fixes Kastiel with a stare so frigid it could flash-freeze a volcanic eruption.
