The carriage rattled toward the High Council chambers.
Inside, Callen Redington sat opposite Gabrielle Mondego, his hands clasped tightly enough for his knuckles to pale.
He had changed since last year. He who always loved appearance at the council to blow his own horn as leader of the Sagan, had become more secluded. This was the first time since last year, he had appeared.
His blond hair, once kept short, now fell to the middle of his neck. His features had sharpened, his body had muscled up, and there was something different in his eyes that were once so haughty, radiated with a savagery that hadn't been there before.
But right now, in this carriage, he looked anxious.
Gabrielle placed a hand on his knee. "Everything will be fine. We've planned this to the letter. What happened five years ago won't happen again."
Callen exhaled slowly and nodded. "We've worked too hard for this to fail. They won't see it coming."
Gabrielle smiled. "Let's make them pay."
The council hall was nearly full when they arrived. Andrew greeted them with a nod from a distance. He'd aged visibly, grey now threading through his hair. Callen returned the nod with a small bow.
The herald announced the session, and they filed into the hall.
Callen and Gabrielle took their seats as representatives of the Sagan clan.
One by one, the heads of the other houses entered, new faces mixed among the old, all of them now bound to Harry's growing power.
In the years since the coup, Charles had fallen ill, unable to fulfil his duties. No one knew exactly what had happened to him. It had happened five years ago, same as everything else.
The herald's voice rang out again: "Announcing the arrival of the Lord of Light."
Callen's hand curled into a fist beneath the table. He forced it open.
Five years.
Five years of waiting.
Five years of planning.
Five years of imagining this moment.
But it wasn't Harry who entered.
Annabella strode into the hall.
Callen's breath caught.
She was more beautiful than Callen remembered—the softness of youth replaced by graceful maturity.
Her eyes held a cunning, more provocative weight now. Though her frame remained small, every step she took filled the room with oppressive energy and authority.
She stopped before the council.
"Bless be the Light."
The council answered as one.
"Blessed be the Light."
Callen could barely breathe. His eyes fixed on her. Anger tangled with barely concealed desire. Gabrielle nudged him, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself back into focus.
Annabella continued.
"The Lord of Light has pressing matters in the other realm that require his attention. He has therefore entrusted me with his authority for today's session."
She looked across the council.
"Aye," the council answered in unison.
The session progressed. Callen could barely breathe. She was the same woman he remembered, and yet entirely different.
Then her attention shifted to the Sagan delegation. Her eyes found Callen's, and she smirked.
"It's been a while, Callen. Gabrielle."
Gabrielle, noticing Callen's distraction, answered smoothly. "The years have barely touched your splendor."
Annabella's smile sharpened, one eyebrow arching.
"It's an honor to see you lead,"Callen managed. "You've always been so keen."
Annabella placed her hands together on the table. "If I didn't know you, Callen, I'd think you were insulting me. But I know better."
"If I didn't know you, I might think you were insulting me."
Callen managed a small smile.
"But you know me better than that."
"I would hope so."
The tension between them was immediate.
Gabrielle stepped in before it could become something worse.
She began outlining the proposed reforms.
Callen listened carefully this time.
When she finished, he leaned forward.
"There are problems."
Several heads turned.
Gabrielle glanced at him but allowed him to continue.
"The implementation assumes cooperation from houses that have no incentive to cooperate."
He pointed to one section of the proposal.
"And this gives the smaller clans no protection if the larger houses refuse to comply."
A lord across the table interrupted.
"That is an exaggeration."
Callen turned toward him.
"No."
Another lord objected.
The discussion quickly became heated.
Some defended the existing system.
Others supported the reforms.
Callen dismantled the weak arguments one by one, then proposed alternatives where he saw an opening.
Annabella watched.
She said almost nothing.
But she was watching everyone.
Every hesitation.
Every alliance.
Every shift in tone.
Every time someone supported an argument only because another lord had supported it first.
When she finally spoke, the room quieted.
She addressed the strongest objections first.
Then she pointed out flaws in the Sagan proposal.
Then she acknowledged the concerns of the progressive houses.
Then, almost effortlessly, she offered compromises that gave each side something without surrendering the central reform.
Callen stared at her.
She wasn't merely moderating the discussion.
She was mapping the room.
Reading everyone.
Moving them without making them realize they were being moved.
It was impressive.
And terrifying.
By the time she finished, even some of her harshest critics were nodding.
Annabella rose gracefully.
"This session is adjourned. I'll relay the details to the Lord Harry, and we'll continue from there." She gestured toward the doors. "Please, enjoy yourselves. Dinner has been prepared."
With that, she turned and left.
Callen remained seated for several seconds.
Then he stood.
Gabrielle reached for him.
"Callen—"
He was already gone.
Callen made it as far as the gardens before he stopped.
He pushed through the hedge-lined path, loosened the collar of his coat, and kept walking until the noise of the High Council disappeared behind him.
Only then did he stop.
He undid another button.
Then another.
His chest felt too tight.
"Fuck."
He dropped onto the grass beneath an old tree and leaned his head against the trunk.
Five years.
Five years, and somehow seeing her again had managed to make all of it feel like yesterday.
He dragged both hands over his face.
"Fuck."
Then a childish voice came from the other side of the tree.
"My mommy says cursing is for ruffians."
Callen's eyes opened.
The voice continued.
"Since you're here, I assume you're not one."
Callen stared at the tree.
Who is this little asshole?
He rubbed his face.
"You'd be wrong."
He leaned his head against the trunk.
"This place is full of ruffians."
He glanced toward the council buildings.
"In fact, the greatest and cruellest of them all wear silk."
A small laugh came from behind the tree.
"You're funny."
Callen frowned.
"I'm going to call you Bad Adult because you talk bad."
Callen scoffed.
"Well, that's rather self-explanatory,"Callen scoffed. "But I appreciate that know-it-all Ass like you thought I needed it spelled out."
The child rounded the tree and stomped a small foot with an indignant huff.
Something about the motion, the shape of his eyes and of his face, made Callen's chest ache. He looked painfully, cruelly familiar. Like someone who'd once caused Callen more hurt than he could easily name.
"You can't talk to me like that,"the boy declared. "I'm a child. You're an adult. You're supposed to act better."
The little bastard was beginning to remind him of someone.
Callen's mouth twitched. He then mimicked the boy's pout. "Who told you all adults were mature? I'm immature, and I'm quite happy about it. You, on the other hand, are mature and a real pain in my ass."
The child narrowed his eyes.
They stared at each other.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then the boy laughed.
Callen tried to resist.
He failed.
Soon they were both laughing.
"What's your name?"
The boy hesitated.
Then lifted his chin.
"Why?"
Callen blinked.
"Because I'm asking."
"That's not a good enough reason."
Callen stared.
Then laughed again.
"Who taught you to talk like that?"
"My mommy."
"Your mommy sounds very wise."
"She is."
"Your mommy seems to have a lot of rules."
"She does."
"Sounds exhausting."
The boy smiled.
"She is sometimes."
Callen laughed before he could stop himself.
The boy grinned.
The immediate certainty of the answer caught Callen off guard.
What an Ass! This kid is ... karmic.
The boy crouched down, plucking at the grass. Callen studied him.
"Why do you look so miserable? Actually—better question—what are you doing out here? Are you lost?"
The child arched his eyebrow, tilting his head. "I'm just bored. I ran away from my guardian."
Callen slowly stood, brushing grass from his trousers.
"Wow."
He put on an exaggeratedly sympathetic expression.
"Poor baby."
He looked around.
"At your age, I was running through fields having the time of my life."
He gestured toward the gardens.
"And you're stuck here."
The boy rolled his eyes then shrugged.
"I wouldn't expect less from a Bad Adult."
The boy tilted his head.
"Why were you crying?"
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I was sweating."
"From your eyes?"
Callen looked at him.
The boy smiled.
"You are very bad at lying."
"You're very annoying."
"Mommy says honesty is important."
"You're going to be a nightmare when you're older."
Callen shook his head thinking, This child was a walking, talking rage-bait machine.
"Follow me. Let's find something fun to do around here."
The boy's eyes narrowed—sharp, calculating far beyond his years. "Am I supposed to follow a Bad Adult away from the real adults who'd protect me if you tried something funny?"
Callen threw his hands up with a groan, biting back a curse. "We both know you've got magic in you, blondie."
The boy immediately objected.
"I'm not blond!"
"Obviously your hair is white and your eyes are blue," Callen said, exasperated. "That makes you a Lucreus. And judging by how much your mouth runs, you must be a powerful one—that's the only explanation for how a loud little thing like you is still alive."
The boy laughed and fell into step beside him. "Impressively perceptive for a dimwit."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
They found the Forbidden River.
They skipped stones.
The boy became obsessed with making them ricochet across the surface.
Callen taught him how to angle the stones.
For a while, they forgot about protocol.
Then Callen spotted the magical bees.
He looked at Child.
Child looked at him.
They looked at the honey.
Callen smiled.
The boy sighed.
"No."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not."
Ten minutes later, they were running for their lives.
Callen had the boy thrown over one shoulder as a furious swarm of magical bees pursued them.
"PUT ME DOWN!"
"I'M NOT PUTTING YOU DOWN!"
"I CAN FIGHT!"
"YOU DUMMY!"
Callen ducked beneath a branch.
"THESE ARE MAGICAL CREATURES!"
"So?"
"Unless you've mastered Illumination, we run!"
The boy laughed.
"RUN FASTER, OLD PERSON!"
Callen sprinted harder.
"I'm carrying you!"
"You're still so so so slow!"
"You are officially banned from speaking."
Callen laughed despite himself.
"We need to work on your insult book!"
They disappeared into the gardens.
By the time they returned to the main grounds, several guards were already searching the gardens.
Annabella stood near the entrance.
She listened to a guard informing her that the commander had joined the search as well.
Her expression was more annoyed than frightened.
"Expand the search to the western gardens."
"Yes, my Lady."
Then she saw them.
Callen.
Dirty.
Grass stuck to his coat.
And beside him, equally filthy, was the Boy.
The boy saw her.
"Mother!"
He ran.
Annabella's expression changed instantly. She crossed the distance and crouched the moment the boy ran to her, pulling him up into her arms.
"What have I told you about wandering around alone?"
"I was exploring."
"You were missing."
The boy peeked at her.
"I had supervision."
Annabella glanced over his head.
Her eyes landed on Callen.
He straightened.
The boy pointed at him.
"This is Bad Adult."
Callen nearly choked.
The boy's face.
The eyes.
The expression.
The stubborn little tilt of his head.
Too familiar.
Pain moved across Callen's face before he could hide it.
Annabella stared at Callen.
Callen bowed.
"My Lady."
Callen watched her cradle her dirty, beaming son, watched the boy soak up his mother's love without reservation. His eyes stung. He blinked hard, forcing himself back to the present.
She kissed her son's forehead.
Then she set him down and ran her fingers through his dishevelled hair.
"I'll deal with you later. For now, I need you to be the picture of perfection."
The boy opened his mouth.
A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.
Annabella's expression hardened slightly.
The boy wisely closed his mouth.
She gestured to the guard.
"Take him inside."
The guard approached.
The boy sighed dramatically.
"Yes, Mother."
As he walked away, he looked back at Callen.
"Bye, Bad Adult!"
Callen lifted a hand.
"Bye, Blondie."
The boy replied annoyed.
"I'm not blond."
Callen glanced at his almost-white hair.
"You're definitely blond."
"I'm not."
"Fine. Snowhead."
The boy grinned.
Callen gave him a small wave.
The boy grinned.
Then disappeared inside.
Annabella watched him go with a tender smile.
Only when he was out of sight did she turn back to Callen.
"You seem different."
Callen swallowed.
"So do you."
One corner of her mouth lifted.
"Is that a compliment?"
"I haven't decided."
She gave a quiet laugh.
Callen swallowed. She's grown so much. Am I being interrogated or flirted with either way why is it so intense.
She didn't dwell on the sudden obvious tension between them. Instead, she fell into step beside him, gesturing for him to walk with her.
"Why does my son call you Bad Adult?" she asked, almost idly.
Callen breathed in, the resemblance between the boy and Annabella suddenly deafening in his mind from up-close. Pain flickered across his face.
"Are you all right?" Annabella asked, noticing.
He nodded quickly. "The nickname. Kids are naturally little ass—" He caught himself.
Annabella raised an eyebrow, arms folding.
"I mean,"Callen amended, biting his lip, "kids can be rude sometimes."
"Not this one," Annabella said, a real laugh escaping her. "I raised him myself. So?"
Callen buttoned his coat, smirking despite himself. "I love the trust you have in your own parenting."
"Careful."Annabella's lips twitched. For the first time, Callen saw something almost playful in her eyes
"I met him, gave him a couple of terrible pieces of advice. He's decided I'm immature."
Annabella laughed—warm, genuine, the first unguarded thing Callen had seen from her all day.
"My child can be mischievous."
She shook her head.
"He got it from his mo—"
She stopped.
Something flickered across her face.
"...father, I suppose."
Callen's smile faded.
Annabella looked ahead.
"I've rarely seen him this happy."
Her voice softened.
"Unfortunately, I don't seem to know how to bring that side of him out."
She brushed a strand of hair from her face.