Dinner ended without Zion securing his freedom.
If anything, the situation became worse.
The family moved from the dining room into the western salon, where the formal arrangement of the evening dissolved almost immediately. The fire burned low behind an ornate brass screen, warming the dark green room while snow pressed softly against the tall windows. Lamps had been dimmed along the walls, leaving the holiday lights in the adjoining garden visible through the glass.
Sirius abandoned his jacket over the back of an armchair and settled beside Ethan on one of the broad sofas. Ethan still wore the dark burgundy formal suit he had chosen for dinner, the fine fabric fitted elegantly through his waist, although he had already loosened the high collar at his throat.
Lucas had changed nothing except his location. He occupied the rug near the fire with one shoulder against Trevor's knee, his pale shirt open at the throat now that nobody important remained to impress.
