Leela stepped into the main living area, the familiar weight of her children settling her spine. Caspian rode her left hip, Briar her right—two squirming anchors balanced with the kind of unconscious precision that only came from repetition and necessity.
Magda’s news still pulsed quietly in her chest: one heartbeat, not two. One baby this time. One life to shield instead of a pair. In the shadow of Vane’s looming war, that felt like a tactical mercy—one less variable in a world spinning out of control.
She halted a few feet from the fireplace, her gaze moving from Finnegan to the two men by the hearth.
"Elder Thorpe. Elder Horne," Leela said, voice steady but cool. With a child on each hip, bowing was impossible, but the short, precise nod she offered was enough to satisfy protocol. "I
