The silent agreement with Lucien hung in the air long after his brother had vanished into the twilight, leaving Caelan alone in the cavernous study. The task was set. The first move on his own board had been made. But it brought him no peace.
Peace was a foreign country whose borders had been closed to him for centuries. In its place was the cold, familiar landscape of duty, and now, a new, uncharted wilderness of obsession.
As dusk bled into true night, Caelan prepared for the ritual he both endured and required: dinner with his family. It was a cornerstone of his control, a projection of stability in a house that was anything but. He was the unshakable center around which their various orbits of madness, ambition, and rebellion revolved.
