Hushed Willows I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3

The yearlings were Medeiros. His sister had been quick to share the news — a niece and a nephew they'd never met. Opal's kids. In a way they were more like siblings to the last of Morticia's litters, who had been raised in part by the eldest. It was odd to think of them as either.

The first feeling to bloom was protective instinct, a natural thing toward those he knew as blood. Tybault had taken to checking up on their den-site from a distance — regardless of how Reina felt about it. He reinforced the borders nearest where they denned, too, but never once did he seek the yearlings.

It was entirely by accident that he stumbled across the boy. Carnelian. Tybault glanced at him as he came to the edge of the lake. At first he only drank in silence. After a moment, his curiosity got the better of him, as he'd known it would. How was it, the last time you saw it? The Gilded Sea, He lifted his head from the water as he spoke, eyes finding the dark boy again.