A few months later, the fragments still sat where Gabriel had first placed them, thin sheets of crystal lined across his desk like pieces of a puzzle that refused to exist. The scorched runes shimmered faintly under lamplight, mocking in their incompleteness. Even with the empire's finest scribes, half the Shadows, and the imperial archivists scouring every trace of old wardcraft, they had gotten nowhere. It was like working with the memory of smoke.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, one hand pressed absently against the curve of his stomach. The child was steady, quiet for now, unlike the chaos Arik had brought from the first quickening. This time, there was no fire licking at the wards, no shards pulling at his dreams, and no sense of a soul clawing for rebirth. Just a child.

His gaze drifted to the untouched plate at his elbow, flatbread with spiced cheese, figs drizzled with honey, and a small bowl of pickled vegetables that he hadn't stopped craving for weeks. The citrus pitcher had long since vanished from his office, exiled at the first twist of nausea. Even the faintest scent made him snap at Edward, who had very wisely instructed the kitchen staff to stop sending it altogether.

He plucked up one of the figs, biting into it, his free hand brushing over the page of his notes where yet another failed translation attempt lay.

Nothing. Again.

The runes might as well have been carved by ghosts.

The door clicked softly, the wards shifting as Edward stepped in. He set a pile of papers onto the corner of the desk, his expression neutral but his tone pointed. "Another report from the archivists. And before you ask, no, they haven't cracked it either."

Gabriel huffed a laugh, sharp and low, chewing slowly. "So it isn't just me losing my touch."

Edward allowed himself the faintest twitch of a smile. "You're trying to build with no foundation. Half the symbols are burned out; the rest are likely erased on purpose. Even Gregoris says it's like chasing shadows."

Gabriel's brown eyes lingered on the scorched fragments, his fingers tightening faintly over his stomach. "Shadows still left marks."

Edward didn't argue. He only inclined his head slightly toward the untouched bowl of vegetables. "At least you're eating. That's progress."

Gabriel smirked, faint but sharp. "I would call it survival." He reached for another fig, his gaze returning to the fragments as though daring them to shift into meaning under his eyes.

The wards stirred again, and this time it was Rafael who slipped through, carrying a sleek ether tablet pressed neatly under one arm. He bowed quickly, his movements always touched with the ease of someone who had long since grown comfortable in Gabriel's orbit.

"Excellency," he greeted, his voice quieter than Edward's but no less steady. His eyes flicked once to the fragments on the desk, then back to Gabriel. "You're still at them."

Gabriel arched a brow, brown eyes sharp despite the weariness shadowing them. "And you're already dividing my work again, aren't you?"

Rafael stepped closer, setting the tablet down beside the untouched plate. "Yes. Because half the archivists are capable of managing cross-referencing without you hovering, and the Shadows can handle intake reports for at least a day before you review them. What's left can wait until tomorrow."

Edward's mouth twitched faintly at that, though he said nothing.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, one hand absently tracing the curve of his stomach, the other gesturing lazily toward the scorched runes. "And what about these? Shall I let the Empire's brightest scholars chase smoke while I lie in bed eating figs?"

"Yes," Rafael answered without hesitation, his tone quiet but unyielding. "Because if you burn yourself out before the child comes, the Empire will have more than smoke to worry about."

Gabriel's smirk curved, sharp and reluctant, though his eyes softened in the smallest fraction. "You're getting bold, Rafael. Soon you'll be giving me orders."

"We both know that only the Emperor can give you orders," Rafael replied evenly, though the flicker of amusement in his expression betrayed him. "But I can rearrange the schedule with his blessing."

Gabriel hummed, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Do that and I will tell Gregoris that Count Kanne looked at you for more than ten minutes."

Rafael's composure didn't waver, though the tips of his ears colored faintly. "Then I'll make sure the Count never looks at me again."

Edward didn't lift his gaze from the stack he was thinning out, his voice dry as paper. "A practical solution, for once."

Gabriel chuckled, low and sharp, the sound softening as his eyes fell back to the fractured sheets on the desk. The lamplight caught in the scorched grooves, mocking in its silence.

"You've trimmed the noise well enough," he murmured, fingers brushing the edge of a shard. "No dukes, no tariffs, no petitions for grain subsidies. Just this."

Rafael inclined his head, setting the ether tablet neatly beside Gabriel's plate. "Exactly as you wanted it."

"Mm." Gabriel leaned back, hand settling absently against the curve of his stomach, his smirk curving slower now. "Good. Because I don't care to waste another minute on who insulted whom at a luncheon. Goliath's truth matters. The rest…" His brown eyes glinted faintly, wry. "…the rest is for Damian to swat at."

Edward allowed the faintest twitch of a smile. "He enjoys it more than you ever did."

Gabriel's laugh cracked out again, sharp and amused. "He does. Gods help the dukes who think they've won anything by reaching his desk instead of mine."

Before Rafael could reply, the wards at the door pulsed, no formal knock, no request for entry. They parted with a low hum, and Alexandra stepped in as though she owned the room.

Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek tail, her jacket cut sharp in black and blue, the color of her husband's house, though the rest of her outfit leaned toward comfort: pressed trousers, polished flats, and a softness at the shoulders where her daughter rested. The infant was wrapped in a pale pink silk blanket, tiny fists escaping to wave against Alexandra's collarbone, a soft, protesting sound breaking the stillness of the study.

Gabriel blinked once, then leaned back in his chair with a groan that was half amusement, half despair. "When," he drawled, brown eyes sliding to Edward, "did I request a general meeting in my private study?"

Edward, unruffled, inclined his head toward Alexandra. "The wards recognize family."

"That was a mistake," Gabriel muttered, though his gaze softened despite himself as Alexandra crossed the room.

"I was told you've been hiding in here again," Alexandra said, her tone breezy, almost smug. She adjusted the bundle, lowering it just enough to show her daughter's tiny, pinched face. "So I brought someone far more interesting than your ghosts and fragments. Meet your niece, the only person in the Empire with more lungs than Arik at her age."

Rafael ducked his head, hiding a smile.

Gabriel sighed, one hand drifting over the curve of his stomach as though to remind himself of his own situation. His mouth curved wryly. "Wonderful. Another commander before I've even finished translating the last one's death."

Alexandra smirked, bouncing her daughter lightly. "Don't pout. You already like her."

Gabriel's lips curved, sharp but fond. "I tolerate her. Barely."