Aria had expected the pups’ room to be louder.
Silvercrest’s nursery had always been a chaos of noise—paws, shrieks, harried caretakers shouting names. This space in Nightfall was smaller and calmer: a long, low room with shelves along one wall, a big woven rug on the floor, cushions scattered everywhere.
Seven pairs of eyes stared at her from those cushions.
Some curious. Some blatantly bored. One suspicious, as if he’d already decided she was going to be a disappointment.
Lena leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “All right, gremlins,” she announced. “This is Aria. She’s going to read to you so you stop using my head as a climbing structure. Behave, or I’ll make Rowan come teach you numbers again.”
Three of the pups actually winced.
“I was not that bad,” Rowan’s voice drifte
