Corren’s POV
The house Sybil preferred in the city was smaller than the estate, but it had always been carefully kept. I arrived a little after seven, the driver remaining with the car while I went inside. The foyer light was on. The faint scent of her usual perfume hung in the air, familiar and orderly. For a moment I stood there and let the quieter scale of the place settle around me. Then I walked further in.
Sybil was in the living room with a book open on her lap. She looked up when I entered and set the book aside at once, rising to meet me. The smile she offered was the same practical, relieved expression she had worn for years whenever I returned from longer absences.
“You’re later than you said,” she remarked, though there was no real complaint in it. “Have you eaten?”
“Not ye
