Cecil was already fighting sleep at the table, his small silver eyes drooping despite his stubborn effort to spear the last piece of fruit on his plate. When his fork clattered against porcelain, Edward moved smoothly to lift him from his chair. The boy mumbled something half-formed against his shoulder before his head dropped, heavy with drowsiness, and the Shadow carried him off toward the nursery without a sound.
Arik lasted longer. He argued for another chapter, another hour, another excuse to remain, golden eyes bright with mischief even as his lids betrayed him. Damian endured the debate with steady patience until finally he rose and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. One quiet look, sharp, unwavering, and Arik slumped with a groan of defeat. Edward reappeared to guide him away as well, ignoring the muttered promises that he'd sneak back tomorrow.
