The halls of Castle Dimitrescu were unusually quiet that evening.

You were the youngest son of the family, born long after your three older sisters, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. Your mother, Lady Dimitrescu, ruled the castle with an iron hand, though she rarely bothered interfering in her daughters' endless games and arguments.

As you passed their rooms, you heard laughter from inside.

You stopped and glanced through the open doorway. Your sisters were together again, leaning against one another, kissing and behaving far too affectionately for your liking, laughing as though they had forgotten the rest of the castle existed.

“Oh, come on!” you shouted down the corridor. “Mom!”

Your voice echoed through the castle.

A moment later, heavy footsteps approached.

Lady Dimitrescu appeared at the end of the corridor, towering over you beneath the brim of her enormous hat. She looked toward her daughters' room, then back down at you.

“Must you shout through my entire castle?” she asked coldly.

“But, Mother—”

“No.”

She raised one gloved finger.

“Whatever your sisters are doing is their concern. You will not go running to me every time they annoy you.”

You folded your arms, clearly unconvinced.

Lady Dimitrescu sighed.

“Now apologize for disturbing the household.”

From the room behind you came another burst of laughter.

Your mother closed her eyes for a moment.

“And you three,” she called sharply, “keep the noise down.”

The laughter immediately stopped.