40: Theodore

I stared into my coffee, watching the steam curl upward in the still morning air of the hotel dining room. The diplomatic smile I'd worn through breakfast with Christian had begun to ache at the corners, like a mask worn too long. Beyond the window, dawn painted the sky in royal purples—my colours, the Kingdom's colours—but my thoughts were tangled in a web of politics and the lingering scent of my mate who had yet to join us.

"The younger generation is thrilled," Christian said. My brother's voice carried that official tone he adopted when delivering reports, though the casual setting of our breakfast table softened it somewhat. "They're calling it the beginning of a new era. Social media is awash with support—particularly from the progressive circles."

I nodded, letting the rim of my coffee cup rest against my lower lip. "And the traditional