"It was terrible," Cordelia says, her voice sharp. One of her heels taps the car floor in a steady, annoyed rhythm. "Aamon is raising his glass to orphans when everyone there knows he sells the ones who get too old for the homes."

Hadeon sits next to her. His body is relaxed but never loose, the same way he sits at strategy meetings. He holds a drink. His eyes are on the rain streaking down the window. "He knew we wouldn't show up unless he did something loud enough to get in the papers."

Cordelia hums. Her hands rest on her clutch bag. She has perfect posture, even after four hours of smiling through fake politeness. She glances at her husband, the corners of her mouth straight. "We were spectacular."

"We were acceptable."

Cordelia gives a noncommittal hum and taps her manicured fingers on the car window. "Did you see the mayor's wife? My God, she looked awful. I almost felt sorry for her."

"You never feel sorry for anyone," Hadeon says dryly.

"True," she easily agrees. Her brown eyes are still focused on the window as they get closer to the villa. "Still, I missed our pet squirming at my feet. Do you think they pouted the whole time?"

"They always do when we leave them," Hadeon replies flatly. "Especially when it's somewhere they think they deserved to go."

Cordelia smiles. It's the thin, sharp kind of smile she usually saves for disobedient employees. "They forget that you can't teach elegance. They would have tripped into a bowl of custard and cried."

"Or they would have barked at the reporters and spilled wine on the mayor." Hadeon adds. “Little thing doesn't realize how much they could embarrass us with the media around.”

"Still less embarrassing than Aamon’s speech." Cordelia retorts.

Hadeon scoffs in response, with a flash of amusement in his eyes. It disappears as quickly as it came. The car goes around the last turn on the coast. The automatic gates ahead are hidden in the fog. The Greyc estate is a monstrous, dark-windowed building near the cliff's edge, with a few warm golden lights near the southern side. One light is on upstairs.

Cordelia sees it, too. Her head tilts slightly toward the lit window. "Ah."

"Mm." Hadeon finishes the last of his scotch. "They're definitely still pouting."

Cordelia's laugh is quiet and sharp. "Poor thing."

Silence falls for a while, broken only by the sound of tires on gravel. The estate gets closer. The hedges are wet and heavy with rain.

"Restless," he notes simply, though his voice has a sharp edge of curiosity. "They usually don't sulk that obviously."

"They clawed my silk slipper off the rack and threw it in the bathtub yesterday." Cordelia raises one eyebrow. Amused. "Very subtle protest."

Another moment of silence, then: "They're getting impatient. Maybe you taught them that."

"Oh, please,” He chuckles to himself. "Don't blame me for their tantrums. You're the one feeding them strawberries in bed."

"I had them brought in." she corrects.

The car stops in front of the steps. Rain drips off the stone as the doors open. Cordelia gets out first, her heels making a sharp sound on the driveway.

Her mouth slightly curves into a smile. "Let's see how our poor little pet survived."

Inside, the air smells of the sea and old stone. She smooths her shoulder, her fingers touching her collarbone before she lifts her gaze. Hadeon enters right after her, his huge frame towering behind Cordelia.

They walk up the stairs toward their bedroom.