The Bane And The Alpha Beast
A carved cradle sat half-finished near the hearth, the wood still raw in places because Ronan insisted on doing some of the carving himself despite repeatedly proving he had all the delicate finesse of a battle axe.
I stood in the doorway watching the two of them argue over a cradle rail.
Again.
“It’s crooked,” Ronan said.
“It is not crooked.”
“It leans.”
“It has character.”
“It has a tilt.”
Caelan stepped back, folded his arms, and gave the cradle an offended look as if betrayed by lumber.
I laughed before I meant to.
Both men turned.
Ronan pointed at me.
“Tell him it leans.”
I crossed the room, looked very seriously at the offending rail, and said, “I think our children will survive the tr