Arianne and Lexx were finally home.
The estate had been waiting for them. Aunt Estella had spent the morning preparing — fresh sheets on the bed, the nursery stocked and ready, a meal already simmering on the stove. The bodyguards Mira had placed were stationed at the gates and the entrances, visible and unmistakable. The house felt full in a way it hadn't in days, the particular warmth of a family that had been apart too long and was now back under one roof.
Arianne was on the couch in the sitting room, resting. She was recovering, her body adjusting to its postpartum rhythms, every movement rationed, conserving energy the way you do when you know there is more to get through. Lexx was upstairs in the nursery with Franz, who had just finished a feeding and was letting the baby drift off against his shoulder. The afternoon light fell through the windows in long golden rectangles. The house was hushed except for the distant sound of Aunt Estella in the kitchen.
