"It's barely ten in the morning, harpy," Trevor muttered, one hand resting on the banister as he leaned over the landing. His dark robe hung open enough to show the edge of a white shirt beneath, his hair still tousled from a morning he had no intention of cutting short.
Serathine swept into the foyer as though she owned it, the heels of her shoes clicking decisively across the marble. She glanced up, amber eyes narrowing at the sight of him, then smiled, sharp and amused. "What a lovely scarecrow. Tell me, Grand Duke, did civilization abandon you in the night?"
Trevor didn't move, didn't blink, and only tightened the sash at his waist with lazy precision. "Civilization left when you walked through my door uninvited."
"Mm." She unbuttoned her gloves with the same grace one might unsheathe a blade. "Where is my son?"
"Sleeping," Trevor said flatly.
Her brows arched, the faintest flick of surprise betrayed before her lips curved. "Still? At this hour?"
