Breakfast ended in a suffocating silence. Theodore stormed off to his study (likely to sulk and count the bottles in his hidden stash), Marie swept Gideon away with a venomous glare in my direction, and Thomas quickly gathered his books, giving me a brief, almost imperceptible nod before disappearing towards his pantry-laboratory.
My mother, Clarisse, remained seated, calmly sipping her tea. She looked... focused. Renewed. The despair that had clung to her since our arrival was replaced by a sharp, calculating glint in her green eyes. She didn't look at me, but I felt her awareness. She knew something had changed, even if she didn't know what.
I made my excuses – "I think I'll practice my sums, Mother" – and slipped away. Playing the part of the suddenly diligent daughter seemed like the safest bet for now.
But my real destination was the damp, herb-scented pantry.
