Mission accomplished.
She slipped out of Boris's arms and ran toward Kaelus.
"Papa!"
Kaelus immediately crouched.
She threw herself into his arms.
He caught her effortlessly, lifting her against his chest.
"Good morning, little one."
"Good morning!"
Kaelus adjusted the collar of her navy dress, inspecting it with absurd seriousness.
"Comfortable?"
"Yes."
"Too warm?"
"No."
"Too tight?"
"No."
"Can you breathe properly?"
Seraphina giggled.
"Papa, I'm wearing a dress, not armor."
Kaelus ignored this.
He checked the seams anyway.
Alistair watched the spectacle with a slowly developing expression of despair.
The Reaper of the North.
The man who once marched into a battlefield with three hundred soldiers and personally broke an entire siege.
Now inspecting a child's dress seams.
Seraphina suddenly looked over Kaelus's shoulder.
Her eyes met Alistair's.
She smiled.
It was a tiny, sweet, completely innocent smile.
Alistair's eyelid twitched.
She knows.
