The midday light filtered through tall, enchanted windows, softened by a subtle ether haze that kept the study cool despite the cold sun outside. The room smelled like ink, polished wood, and something faintly metallic, ether residue from the fresh stack of reports spread across the Emperor's desk.
Now his desk, too.
Edward had tried, in all his loyal enthusiasm, to set up the Empress's study across the hall. It was grand, full of natural light and tasteful in that very Edward way, with walls lined with records, a new schedule chart hung like a gallery piece, and a fresh tea set waiting on the corner.
Gabriel had taken one look, saw the tea set, muttered something unkind about being institutionalized, and walked right back into Damian's office.
That had been three hours ago.
