Charlotte was pacing the length of her living room, her newborn daughter nestled against her chest in a soft carrier. Utter was lounging on the sofa, half-watching her, half-focused on the bottle he was warming for Hope. Harry sat on the floor, his back against the couch, absentmindedly shaking a rattle and making faces at his niece who, despite her tiny size, already had a gaze sharp enough to quiet a room.

The door creaked open and Riele stepped inside, cheeks pink from the cold outside and ...