The warmth of Flora seemed to soak into Neemry’s bones, a tangible, golden contrast to the marble chill of the Helwart halls she was accustomed to. As the lingering tension from Michael’s presence began to dissipate with his departure to the kitchen, a different kind of energy settled over the dining table, one of gentle, deliberate nurturing.

Liam watched Neemry, this fragile-seeming girl with eyes that held shadows too deep for her years. A maternal ache, sharp and immediate, twinged in ...