There was a specific kind of magic that settled over the cliffside manor right around midnight.
During the day, the estate was a hurricane of activity. Between Rurik's booming battle-cries, Cassian's aggressive sanitization spells, the chaotic stampede of six growing beast-cubs, and now an entire refugee camp of avian beast-kins in the lower gardens, silence was a rare commodity.
But at night, when the hearth fires burned down to glowing embers and the cubs were finally asleep, the manor breathed a long, peaceful sigh.
I stood on the private balcony of the Sovereign's suite, my hands resting on the cool stone railing. The ocean breeze was crisp, carrying the scent of sea salt and blooming night-jasmine. Below me, the sprawling estate was bathed in the soft, silver light of the moon.
A heavy, incredibly soft velvet blanket was suddenly draped over my shoulders.
"You are going to catch a chill, Little Rose," a deep, smooth voice murmured right beside my ear.
