Otto did not answer Arion on the palace steps.
He simply adjusted Theo higher against his chest, glanced once at the staff and security officers gathered around the entrance, and turned toward the interior.
"Inside."
Arion stared after him.
Dean caught his arm before he could follow too quickly.
"Not here."
Arion exhaled through his nose and went after his father.
Theo, entirely unaware that his grandfather had just dropped something politically significant into the middle of their arrival home, rested comfortably against Otto's shoulder with the wooden dragon wedged between them.
"Grandpa, Dragon needs a room."
Otto looked down at him.
"A room?"
Dean immediately stepped in.
"A shelf. At most."
Theo twisted around.
"He needs somewhere to sleep."
"He has your bed."
Otto considered the matter with far too much seriousness.
"We can arrange a shelf."
Dean pointed at him.
"You are not commissioning furniture for the wooden dragon."
"I said a shelf."
