Asher sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. What if my math gets too loud? What if I accidentally prune a senator?
Kade chuckles, a deep, warm rumble that vibrates through the quiet balcony. He drops to his knees beside his son, his right hand resting gently on Asher’s shoulder. If you prune a senator, little wolf, I’ll make sure it’s a painless pruning.
Asher manages a small, fragile smile. Okay, Papa.
Remember the rule, I say fiercely, kissing the top of his white-and-black hair. You are the gardener. You don’t force the growth. You just hold the line.
The grand hall of the Administration Wing is a masterpiece of architectural synthesis. The vaulted ceiling is lined with sleek, blackthorn wood, and the walls are floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the newly planted oak
