That had never mattered before.
Which was, in Rafael's opinion, one of the great structural failures of parenthood.
It was also, unfortunately, no longer the problem at hand.
Because by the time the first wave of guests began flowing fully into the western reception wing, the evening ceased to belong to family logistics and became what it had always threatened to become from the start: an imperial gala in everything but name.
That was inevitable.
Natalie was turning eighteen, yes. Gregoris and Rafael's daughter, yes. But she was also a young woman whose public life had unfolded too near the center of power to ever be mistaken for merely private. Damian and Gabriel were her godfathers.
