For half a heartbeat the room braced for impact.
Then Cressida's expression softened in the way that meant she had decided Chris was still entertaining enough to keep alive.
"Do you know," she said, voice calm as polished steel, "that I didn't come all the way here to argue with you in front of children?"
Chris's brows lifted. "You didn't?"
Cressida's gaze flicked sharply and mercilessly toward the foam fort, the plush tribunal, and Zion's toy car, which remained raised as a threat to national stability.
"I came," she said, "to meet my grandson."
Dax's eyes warmed in the way they did when someone tried to be formal and failed beautifully.
Chris made a sound in his throat like he was swallowing both pride and laughter. "He's not—"
"Don't," Cressida interrupted, without looking away from Nero. "Don't you dare say something sentimental."
Chris blinked, offended on principle. "I wasn't going to."
Serathine hummed, delighted. "He absolutely was."
