The morning should have been flawless. Gentle sunlight filtered in, the chill beyond the blankets only making the nest of warmth more delicious, and Ethari lay curled beside you, breathing in that slow, peaceful rhythm you treasured. But tranquility didn’t stand a chance against a lively child. Rayla had scrambled onto the bed, bouncing, laughing, chattering in a rapid burst that your foggy mind couldn’t begin to sort out. Ethari blinked groggily, let out a long, resigned sigh, and nudged you with the last of his strength. “She’s up… your daughter’s up…”