He heard Caelan in the kitchen before six.
Not unusual. Caelan had always been an early riser — earlier than Seren, earlier than the city, the specific discipline of someone who had decided that the first hour of the day belonged to him before it belonged to anything else.
But it was before six.
And Cara had been up at three.
Seren lay still and listened to the sounds from the kitchen. The coffee machine. A drawer opening and closing. Footsteps that stopped and didn't resume.
He got up.
Caelan was standing at the kitchen counter with his coffee untouched.
Looking at something in his hand.
He didn't hear Seren come in — or he did and didn't turn, which was different and rarer.
Seren went to the kettle.
Filled it.
Switched it on.
The sound of it filled the kitchen.
Caelan turned.
He was holding something small. Seren couldn't see what.
"You're up early," Seren said.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Cara—"
"It wasn't Cara."
The kettle began to heat.
