Chris woke to sunlight and the faint hum of palace engines warming somewhere far below. For one peaceful second, he forgot about the Maleks, the training, the binder, and the fact that his mate was seven-foot-three and currently glaring at a shower because he wasn't allowed to touch him.
It was almost peaceful.
Then Killian knocked politely and was waiting for answer, something was wrong.
Chris groaned and dragged himself out of bed, throwing on a soft shirt and pajama pants as he shuffled to the door. Killian stood there looking very… resigned.
"Consort," he said in that calm, perfectly neutral tone that usually preceded emotional mayhem. "Your siblings have arrived."
Chris blinked. "Andrew and Mia?"
"Yes. His Majesty's jet retrieved them this morning."
Chris rubbed his face, remnants of sleep still clinging to him. "Dax sent his jet? For my siblings?"
