The stronghold stretched around them in Gothic arches, carved wooden panels, and flickering sconces whose light moved across old portraits. The building had been designed to intimidate, yet grief had transformed it into something quieter and heavier.
Veya looked along the corridor.
“I remember this part.”
“The corridor?”
“Sule holding the baby. Rhen appearing behind me and dragging me back before I made everything worse.”
“He did not drag you very far. He dematerialized.”
“That was not an improvement.”
Dax’s mouth moved.
“No. I imagine it wasn’t.”
They turned into a narrower passage.
A door stood partly open at the far end, allowing warm light to spill across the stone.
Dax heard the low murmur of a male voice and raised one hand, signaling Veya to stop.
She followed his gaze through the narrow opening.
The nursery glowed beneath the soft light of an antique chandelier. Dark wooden furniture and heavy curtains softened the room, separating it from the colder architecture beyond.
Rhen sat in a velvet chair beside the crib with Norse cradled against his chest.
The newborn rested inside a navy blanket, his body impossibly small within Rhen’s arms. One of Rhen’s hands supported his head while the other lay carefully across his back.
The sight held Veya motionless.
Rhen’s face carried none of the predatory emptiness he showed her. Grief had stripped the mask away, leaving him haunted and exhausted.
His thumb moved gently across Norse’s cheek.
“I tried,” Rhen murmured. “Gods know I tried, but she still left us.”
Veya looked toward Dax.
He touched one finger to his lips and guided her back from the doorway without touching her.
Inside the nursery, Rhen continued speaking.
“You have her eyes. Do not let anyone take that from you.”
A long silence followed.
“You will not remember her voice,” he said eventually, his own voice roughening. “But I will. I’ll tell you about it when you are old enough to understand.”
Dax encouraged Veya farther along the corridor until the nursery light disappeared behind them.
Neither spoke until they had turned another corner.
“You were not supposed to see that,” Dax said.
“I won’t tell him.”
