For the briefest, most blissful window, Thalor truly believed he had achieved the impossible: peace.
Kaelith, after the wild parade of lunch, had yawned so hard her eyes nearly crossed, and Veylira, the only one with any magical patience, had whisked her away for a quick nap.
Raveth, never one to refuse a snuggly baby, volunteered to rock her gently until sleep took hold.
The castle, for those next thirty minutes, was transformed. The sunlight seemed warmer, the air quieter.
Thalor found himself with a mug of tea (still hot!), slouched contentedly in the reading nook near the library windows, a well-thumbed novel balanced in his lap.
He sipped, glanced at the page, and actually read three entire paragraphs without interruption. For a grandfather of Kaelith, this felt like a minor miracle.
