The quiet nursery in the private royal quarters was warm and peaceful by late afternoon.
Sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the low pine table where Jaxon was sitting with a small bowl of dried cherries and three newly polished river stones. Commander Caleb stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sweeping the hallway outside with unbroken vigilance.
Elena knelt on the soft rug beside her son.
She had washed the sweat of the arena from her skin, dressed in a practical dark leather traveling suit lined with thick wool. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon, strung on a braided leather cord.
"Jax," Elena said softly, placing the pendant around his neck.
Jaxon held the cool silver
