Dinner was served in the grand dining hall, the long table gleaming beneath the chandelier's steady golden light. Silver caught the glow in soft flashes, and the scent of roasted herbs and warm bread drifted through the air.
Father sat at the head of the table, broad shoulders relaxed but commanding as ever. Mum at his right, elegant and observant. Elias and I sat across from them, close enough that our knees brushed beneath the linen cloth.
Father lifted his glass first. "To family reunited."
"To family," Mum echoed warmly.
Elias inclined his head. "To peace that lasts longer than war."
I smiled faintly. "And to quieter days."
Nero made a theatrical sniff.
[Yes, because nothing unfortunate has ever followed a hopeful toast.]
Ignore him.
