Because standing right outside her room were two very tiny, very offended babies, their backs perfectly straight, their arms crossed, and their eyes shining with tragic disappointment.
Sable stood in front with his little doll squeezed tightly against his chest. Lucien stood beside him like a serious old judge, his tiny mouth pressed in a line, eyebrows knitted so tightly he looked ready to lecture an entire kingdom.
Alina blinked.
Dante blinked behind her.
Neither baby blinked.
"You didn't sleep with us…" Sable said in a sad, trembling voice as he lifted his big watery eyes to her. "…but you slept with Dad?"
Lucien nodded sharply, his tiny chin lifting with dramatic betrayal. "We woke up and our bed was empty. I thought you would sleep with us, but it was very…" he said sternly. "Empty. And cold."
Sable sniffed. "Very cold."
Alina's heart melted into warm syrup. "Oh sweetheart, no, it's not what you think—"
