Edward turned—slowly, sharply. "The… heat?"
Gabriel didn't flinch.
He set his teacup down with deliberate grace and adjusted the cuff of Damian's shirt, still too large on his wrists. "Yes. It's expected to begin in a few days. I assumed the medical reports had reached you."
"They had not," Edward said flatly.
Damian didn't speak, though his hand on Gabriel's knee tensed beneath the table.
Edward continued, his voice tight with professional offense. "And when, exactly, was the palace planning to inform me that you'll be entering a full heat cycle while twelve weeks pregnant and bonded to the most unstable alpha on record?"
"I'm right here," Damian said mildly.
"You're always right there," Edward snapped, never looking away from Gabriel.
Gabriel sighed. "It's being handled. A wing will be prepared, I'll be sealed, and no one will know except the three of us and a physician who is being paid enough to keep quiet."
