When Elysia pressed her daughter into Thalor's arms that morning, he'd smiled with the easy confidence of a man who had ruled a kingdom through war and famine, who had parleyed with dragons and brokered peace with demons.
"Enjoy your day," he'd said, bouncing Kaelith gently on his hip. "We'll have fun, won't we, little star?"
Kaelith beamed up at him, her chubby hands already reaching for his royal collar.
Elysia had given him a look—one part gratitude, one part warning—and Malvoria's mouth had twitched in what he could only interpret as wicked glee.
Then, with a final chorus of farewells and "be good for Grandpa," they were gone, laughter trailing down the hall like a comet's tail.
Thalor set Kaelith on the thick carpet of the sitting room and straightened, rolling his shoulders. The castle was quieter than he'd heard it in months.
