Honestly, he expected his mother to be angry. He could practically feel the fury radiating off her as he walked at her side through the manor. He hated how quiet her anger was—such powerfully contained energy in such a small form. He would prefer it if she yelled or hit him; anything more than just silence.

But Aster only got more and more tense the longer the silence dragged on. If he knew his mother, there was definitely a reason she wasn’t speaking yet, so he held his ...