Things had been different since Evander’s dad showed up. He’d given him that look again. Unadulterated loathing. It was fleeting, only a second, but it was there. It’d been a day since then but it was like a wedge was between them. He frowned as he stared at Evander across the kitchen table. They were doing homework and Evander had suggested the kitchen. Normally they did their homework in his room at his desk. They’d snuggle up and talk through the work together when they got stuck. Books were sprawled out across the polished oak top, papers strewn around. He was working on an essay on industrialism in the realm, his mother hovering nearby in excitement to offer his opinions and facts on the matter. Being almost 200 years old and a scientist he’d lived through it and contributed to it.

