He reached for the cup even though he wasn't sure he could lift it. If it proved to be too heavy for his emaciated muscles, he would put it down and say that it smelled subpar and he wasn't going to drink it.
He lifted the cup with his right hand and immediately supported it with the left. The cup was hot to the touch, but he was holding it, and that was a triumph.
He drank.
"It's good," he admitted.
She smiled brightly as if he'd given her a compliment for making the coffee herself. "It is, right? It's better than what I can brew myself. I have a very good coffeemaker in the penthouse, and Lokan got me excellent coffee, but I still can't get it to taste right."
His gut twisted as it always did when she talked about their sons and how well they were treating her.
Those traitors who had betrayed him.
She took a bite of her pastry and set it back on the napkin. "Take a bite. They are really fresh."
He couldn't take the pastry even if he wanted to because he needed both hands to hold the cup up.
"In a moment." He took another sip from the coffee.
"Darius is running around already," she said. "And to think that he only started walking a month ago."
He didn't respond.
"Darius loves it when Kalugal pretends to chase him. He squeals with joy, which is so cute. He's such a serious little boy most of the time that it's nice to see him laughing."
She smiled at the memory. "Kalugal is such a good father. He has that playfulness about him. Little kids need that from their dads. The mother is the nurturer who wraps the child in a blanket of safety, and the father is the adventurer who pushes the child to take risks. It's a balancing act that children benefit from."
He took another sip of his coffee.
She waited.
When he didn't say anything, she set her cup down and sighed.
"I would like for you to take some interest in the lives of our sons."
"I am taking interest."
"You are not saying anything."
"I am listening. I have nothing to contribute."
He'd never played with his sons, not those by blood and not the adopted ones. Not after the first boy who was born in his harem had been murdered by a jealous concubine. The boy hadn't even been his, but he liked the kid and enjoyed playing with him. That had put a target on the boy's back, leading to his murder, and Navuh had learned his lesson. None of his sons had ever gotten any attention from him, and none had reason to think one was more favored than the others.
That was how he'd kept them safe.
"I hope Lokan and Carol have a child soon," Areana said. "I would like another grandchild. A little girl, if the Fates are kind."
"The Fates are a fairy tale."
She smiled indulgently. "I know you don't believe in the Fates, but you contradict yourself. You accept that we are fated mates, and you know that to be true with every fiber of your being, but for us to be fated, the Fates need to exist."
"I didn't say that there is no such thing as fate. What I meant was that the three Fates the gods believed in and attributed matchmaking and destiny to are not real."
"Lokan and Carol are fated mates, and so are Kalugal and Jacki. The Fates matched our sons with females who carry the godly genes, so our grandchildren would be immortal. That didn't happen by chance, Navuh. That was the Fates' doing."
He couldn't rebuke her, and he hated that.
She was telling him that the path their sons had taken had been unavoidable, that it had been destiny, and that he couldn't fault them for betraying him because they had been compelled by the Fates to seek out their mates.
