The conversation came the way the best conversations did.
Without being planned.
Aelara was in the sitting room on a Sunday evening, the rest of the house quiet around her, Vaelor working late in the workroom, the twins somewhere above, Mira already retired for the night with the early schedule she had kept since the Temple and had not let go of even here.
She was reading.
Actually reading this time, not holding the book and looking at the window, the words going in properly, the story doing the thing stories did when they had your full attention.
The door opened.
Lyra came in and looked at the room and looked at Aelara and said: "Are you busy."
"No," Aelara said. She put the book down.
