Snow clung to the manor's windows in delicate lace patterns, the kind frost wove when it wanted to show off. Inside, the sitting room was warm and quiet, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Alexandra sat curled in a velvet armchair, one leg tucked beneath her, her silk robe the color of pine needles and early vengeance.
The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts; someone in the kitchen was trying too hard again, but she let it be. It was winter. She was home. And Caelan, thank the stars, was home again, even if he was working.
Technically, she was supposed to be reviewing the final logistics for the Civil Examination. But with Gabriel attending the morning hearing alongside Damian, there was no reason to rush to the palace. She preferred her manor. Or a good ball. Certainly not the administrative hell her lovely younger brother had so graciously dumped in her lap.
The tablet on the side table pinged.
She ignored it.
It pinged again.
