"You have two official ones, Christian and Sofia, one bastard that you like, Max, and God knows how many more from Hadeon's mistresses."
Damian's expression didn't falter. If anything, he looked genuinely offended.
"I meant my childhood."
Gabriel gave him a look that could peel paint off a cathedral ceiling. "You mean the one where you were crowned at thirty-one, raised by wolves and war generals, and had an entire underground legion of loyal fanatics before you hit twenty-five?"
amian didn't so much as blink. "Twenty-four," he corrected mildly. "The oath ceremony was early that year."
Gabriel's eye twitched.
"And you're trying to tell me about childhood loneliness?" he said, voice pitched so softly only Damian could hear it. "You had assassins sending you birthday letters written in code."
Damian nodded, utterly sincere. "It was very touching."
Gabriel stared at him like he was trying to remember if regicide was still technically illegal during a public celebration.
