[Rynthall Estate—Silas and Lucein's Chamber—continuation]
Lucien's smile was the kind that could make grown men rethink their life choices. Calm, too calm, and dangerous. He tilted his head, looking at the little girl clinging to him like a black-haired koala.
"Elysia… sweetheart," Lucien cooed, his voice sweet as honey but carrying the weight of doom, "would you do Mama a tiny favor? Go find Alphonso and ask him to prepare a dessert for us. I'm feeling… rather hungry."
Elysia's tiny arms tightened around his neck like a vise, her crimson eyes narrowing at Silas. Death glare, inherited directly from Lucien himself.
"No," she whispered dramatically, refusing to let go.
Lucien chuckled softly, rubbing her back. "Sweetheart…"
Elysia finally loosened her grip but not without one final glare at Silas that could have turned stone to dust. Then, with all the speed of a tiny general preparing for war, she dashed toward a drawer near the bed.
"Ely? What are you doing?" Lucein asked.
