LianaSpring made the estate road softer than I remembered.Father stood at the fence line with a hammer in his hand and dust on his trousers, exactly as his letters had promised, no formal greeting party, no performance. When I climbed down from the saddle he hugged me hard enough to hurt, then held me at arm’s length and checked my face like a man still learning the adult version of his child.“You look fed,” he said.“You look stubborn.”His mouth twitched. Then his eyes moved past me to Kael, who had kept a respectful distance from the fence, reins loose in one hand, the other empty at his side.Elias did not offer a hand.Kael did not ask for one.“You can water the horses,” Father said to him, not unkind, not warm. “South trough. The pump sticks.”“I’ll manage,” Kael said.It was the most peaceful exchange they had managed in months. I took it without trying to decorate it.Inside, the kitchen smelled like bread and woodsmoke. Father poured coffee, asked about the keep’s north o
Última actualización : 2026-11-01 Leer más